


All Lights Cast Shadows

by drowzeee



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming of Age, EVERYONE IS IN THIS STORY, F/F, F/M, Faunus Oscar Pine, Found Family, M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowzeee/pseuds/drowzeee
Summary: Ozpin comes back shortly after the train crash and Jinn's story. At least, he does for Oscar, but the boy chooses to keep his return a secret. Hiding the truth is what got them into this mess, but revealing the truth can be just as consequential. How will Ozpin's presence influence Oscar as a person, the choices he makes, and thus the world around him?There is a darkness that lurks everywhere, even in the brightest of places—or people.
Relationships: Jaune Arc & Oscar Pine, Oscar Pine & Everyone, Oscar Pine/Whitley Schnee, Ozpin & Oscar Pine
Comments: 31
Kudos: 82





	1. Frozen Tears Don't Taste Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some background ships I didn't want to include in the main tags out of courtesy:  
> -Poly JNR  
> -Yang/Blake  
> -Ambiguous James/Qrow, Ozpin/Glynda, oh and Theodore definitely got around  
> -Some messy unrequited-but-not-quite Qrow/Ozpin  
> -Elm/Vine  
> -Watts/Tyrian
> 
> Will be updated if things change!

The brutal cold of the white forest path is not nearly enough to numb the crushing guilt that resides in Oscar’s chest. It is a feeling so heavy he feels a physical pain pulsating between his ribs. That, or the bruises to his spine from being punched straight into a tree by an enraged professional huntsman are making themselves known. His jaw is certainly swelling, not healing with his aura being too busy protecting him from the sharp wind that cuts through his natural body heat. Unlike those surrounding him, he isn’t wearing any layers, just some meager ratty clothes from the farm he hasn’t replaced and boots that were three miles of walking away from falling apart completely.

His cheeks, both red but one tinted purple and blue, are crusty with frozen tears. They’re not his tears—well, they weren’t, at first, but shortly after being wordlessly shunned by team QRWBY and falling to the back of the pack, Oscar couldn’t hold back soft, broken sobs of his own, his sniffles and pathetic mewlings thankfully drowned out by the roar of the growing blizzard. Though, maybe it would earn him some needed sympathy from the girls to see him shivering and broken.  _ Ah _ , then again, they’d beaten down a man sobbing before them on his knees, his traumas ripped straight from his hands and displayed to what were practically strangers in the grand scheme of his life.

Deeply personal memories handed to them on a silver platter that Oscar had prepared. It seemed so righteous, back in the moment, to stop Ozpin from hiding Jinn and her knowledge.  _ No more secrets, no more half truths,  _ they’d promised. They’d  _ promised _ , so then why did it still feel so wrong to expose the truth? Was it because this trauma, Ozpin’s—no,  _ Ozma’s—  _ memories, were his own? Were they already far enough in the merging of souls for Ozpin’s desires to match with his own? Or was this simply Oscar heavily empathizing with his partner’s burdens?

He shivers, harder than the current wracking of his thin frame, and almost bites clean through his bottom lip. It takes all of his strength not to break into another bout of sobs. 

_ I’m so sorry, Ozpin.  _

He can’t think of much else to say, or rather, think. He just hopes with all of his heart that Ozpin will return from where he’s locked himself deep inside, triggered by these resurfaced horrors and berratings. Ozpin’s presence is desolate, hollow, just a ghost of a sensation in the dark corners of his mind. Oscar had become so accustomed to Ozpin’s company (against his will, but he digresses) that not having him here somehow feels worse. This is what he had wanted, back in the beginning of his life’s end— to have his own mind to himself. Though, he supposes it’s not truly his again. Ozpin may be unresponsive, but he’s still  _ there _ .

Sure, the girls and Qrow (especially Qrow) had a reason to lash out, to feel betrayed by the dooming news they’d learned, but wasn’t it obvious that Ozpin felt a deep pain for his actions? That he was a broken man trying his best, as misguided as he may have been?

And what ever happened to ‘don’t shoot the messenger’? Oscar clenches his chattering teeth and rubs his jaw, glaring dull daggers into the back of Qrow’s head. Not that he’ll ever voice his anger at the unfair treatment, lest he get clobbered a second time, but he deserves some silent fuming of his own. 

The girls begin arguing among themselves yet again, but Oscar can hardly hear them from how far back he’s strayed from the pack. Idly, as he watches them argue, he wonders if they would even miss him if he were to… disappear. Sure, they’d bonded a bit in Mistral, but was one month really enough to secure him a place in their hearts? Ruby, maybe, and perhaps even Weiss, but Oscar barely knows Blake, and Yang was… Yang had distrusted Ozpin from the moment they (being she and Oscar) met, and it was apparent she no longer saw Oscar as his own person. And now that  _ all  _ of them hated their former professor, the one thing giving Oscar worth in their cause, what was protecting him now? Whereas before this he was a precious vessel for the reincarnating beacon of wisdom, now he is just a farm boy with mediocre huntsman skills harboring a man deemed untrustworthy and suspicious. 

The group pauses, heads and ears perked as they seemingly listen for something in the distance. How anyone can hear over the chattering of their own teeth and the wind, Oscar doesn’t know. Yet another skill that sets them apart as capable huntsman, he supposes. Ruby leads them further down the path, a small spark of determination in her eyes upon an apparent discovery of something to walk towards. She spares a quick glance back at Oscar, but he can’t muster up even a fake smile for her benefit. Instead, his gaze falls back to his boots, unable to feel thankful for her concern at the moment.

The Brunswick Farms are scary, but they’re shelter. Dead people in beds, either starved to death or poisoned, or killed by something else entirely, are not exactly a promising sign, but it’s better than freezing to death in a flurry. This scenario could be straight out of one of those horror novels Oscar liked to read near Halloween every year, back on his own farm. He prefers fantasy novels, but a murder mystery or psychological horror story always helps get him into the October holiday spirit. 

Now, by the fireplace in the living room, Maria was reading the house owner’s diary. The first of a series. It’s boring, and Oscar’s head pounds wickedly from the stress of the day, but Maria is the only one actively providing Oscar with hospitality, despite her cold and snappy personality, so he sits on the floor close to her and indulges her narration.

She reads with a singular tone, and while it’s not  _ bad,  _ it only reminds Oscar of the stories Ozpin would tell him in their downtime, of his (their) past lives. Ozpin had lost himself in the retellings at times, slipping into different voices for the people he’d met, some of the impersonations downright silly or poor attempts at foreign accents, and Oscar would laugh at how unnatural the imitations sounded in his own voice when he allowed Ozpin to take control and take a spin with tongue rather than mind. 

Thinking back to the man, Oscar pulls his knees closer to his chest, fighting back another bout of tears. Maria, bless her heart, doesn’t say anything if she notices the way Oscar curls into himself, and later doesn’t question when he excuses himself to use the restroom.

Out of view, he locks the door behind him immediately and hunches over the sink, tears splashing into the porcelain as he shudders through choked sobs. He doesn’t do well to hold back his whimpers, but thankfully no one else is near, and the old lady in the other room is hard of hearing, and has the right mind not to pry if she does somehow hear him. Though just as quickly as his pity party begins, it is interrupted by a powerful wave of guilt flooding his body. But it isn’t  _ his own  _ guilt, which shocks him from his breakdown enough to wipe his tears away and look into the mirror, eyes wide, hopeful but disbelieving. 

“ _ Oz?” _ He hiccups, voice barely above a whisper. Involuntarily, his tail wags. 

_ Yes. _

“You-  _ you’re back. Already? _ ”

_ Only for you. _

He shouldn’t, it’s selfish given their circumstances, but Oscar smiles at his mirror image. As quick as the smile graces his lips it falls, and he leans in closer, as if his reflection were the other man.

“I’m so sorry, Ozpin. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t told Ruby about the relic-” he stops, his jaw clamping shut against his will, Ozpin’s own feelings of guilt overpowering his own.

_ That’s enough. You have nothing to apologize for, Oscar. _

Fondness. Protectiveness. 

_ “ _ But…”

Ozpin’s pained smile manages to twitch Oscar’s lip.

_ What you did was the right choice, in the end, as much pain as it may have caused. It was admirable of you to take agency like that. _

“Even though it… ended up..?”

_ You couldn’t have possibly known the outcome would be so disastrous. Honestly, it could have been much worse, wouldn’t you agree? _

Yes, they could have done much worse than a right hook and some yelling. But that doesn’t exactly excuse their treatment of Ozpin, or of  _ him.  _ He voices his thoughts with a childish pout.

_ No, it does not, though their actions have merit. It’s all a bit of a gray area, isn’t it? _

“I guess. Does that mean you’re… are you going to talk to them?” Silence. Oscar worries his bottom lip, brow scrunched as he stares deep into his own eyes. At the lack of response, he cautiously pushes into his own mind, searching for the man’s presence. “Ozpin?”

_ Sorry, I…  _ somehow, for a voice that has no vocal chords, Ozpin’s voice manages to shake. Vulnerability encases Oscar and he wraps his arms around himself, shoulders heavy with a crushing weight. Fear? Despair? 

_ I’m sorry, Oscar.  _ The boy trembles, not for himself but for the haunting tone of the man inside him. He’d never heard Ozpin sound so shaken, outside of what transpired earlier today. During his fight with Hazel he’d been heavily concerned, a bit frantic, even, but not nearly this  _ scared.  _ Trembling, he clutches his own arms tighter, the worn leather of his gloves wrinkling between his fingers and palms. 

“I-it’s okay. If you don’t want to- _ can’t  _ talk to them yet, I won’t make you. I won’t tell them you’re still here.” His eyes are dry now, irritatingly so in the biting cold without a warm fireplace near. “You’re hurt, and you need time to heal. The least I can do is let you rest in peace.”

_ An interesting choice of words to use on someone who is dead. _

The boy blushes, eyes blowing wide and flying to meet their own gaze in the mirror. Just as he opens his mouth to apologize, he’s cut off by Ozpin’s faint laughter. It’s quiet, small and tight, but the sound of it is enough to bring a small feathery laugh out of Oscar himself. Together, the two share a serene moment, Ozpin’s amused chuckle strained but genuine, and Oscar a nervous, relieved, and awkward bundle of emotions all at once. He wipes the drying tears from his cheeks yet again, some heat returned to his face and light to his eyes. 

“I’m going to go back now. Um… you’ll be around, though, right? Like you always are?”

_ I may be a bit distant but… yes. I will be here for you, Oscar.  _

They stare at each other for one last lingering moment. They’re both tired, exhausted, and drained emotionally and physically, but the emotions that flow between them freely within Oscar’s mind are enough to fill in the blanks where they can’t find the words to express.

_ Thank you,  _ Ozpin says anyways, and the two words are accompanied by a flood of fondness for Oscar so strong that the boy can’t help feeling both flustered and humbled at once.

He returns to Maria. The elderly woman hadn’t paused her reading for Oscar’s sake, continuing on in silence, but does begin to read aloud again once he’s settled on the floor next to her, a pillow pulled from the couch and into his chest. His eyes are still red, but like before Maria doesn’t bring attention to it. He’s not sure she even looks at him, with no discernible pupils to gauge where her gaze may be. They sit for a while longer, alone together, the crackling of the fireplace and the muffled roaring of the storm harmonizing under Maria’s story. 

Ruby and Weiss return first, cans of food stacked in their arms and the slightest pep in their step. At least some spirits have returned to them, for now, though they look dead tired and their smiles don’t reach their eyes. They place the cans next to the fire, then sit, leaving an open space between them; an invitation for Oscar.

Ozpin’s paternal feelings of fondness for the two girls blend seamlessly with Oscar’s own admiration as he stands and accepts their olive branch. Maria continues reading silently, gracing them with room to talk. The boy sits between the two girls, pillow on his lap, fingers fidgeting with a loose string. If Maria hadn’t noticed his red eyes, there was no doubt the two girls  _ did.  _

Wordlessly, they scoot closer, so their shoulders brush Oscar on both sides. His tail curls to the right, brushing against Weiss’s back. 

“How are you holding up?” Weiss asks, raising her palms towards the fire. Her tone is delicate, like glass wind chimes twinkling in a light breeze. Oscar had always found her voice the prettiest of the teams, though Ren’s was a strong contender for second place. 

Slumping with a sigh, Oscar says, “I’m okay. Besides the bruises on my back… and jaw. And the thousands of years of relived traumatic memories.” He tries for a joke, but it falls flat. He’s tired. 

“I’m sorry,” Ruby says, hand rubbing his shoulder blade in comforting circles. “Is your aura not healing it?”

“It’s too busy protecting me from freezing to death, I think.”

_ I can help with that, if you’ll allow me. _

No… a spontaneous surge of aura would be way too suspicious, and Oscar doesn’t know if he could lie straight through his teeth about Ozpin’s return. It’s bad enough he’s doing exactly as Oz had done by withholding the truth, he’s not going to lie right to his friend’s faces. 

_ Or perhaps not. I can sense you’re troubled. Please, don’t let me distract you from this moment.  _

“Well maybe getting some food in you will help!” Ruby exclaims, leaning forward to grab a can of beans. “We were going to wait for Yang and Blake before busting these open, but I don’t think they’ll care if you have some early.”

“I don’t think they care much for me at all right now in general,” he mumbles, unable to shake the small grudge he’s holding against Yang. And with the way Blake is attached to the blonde’s hip, Oscar has no doubt she’d choose Yang’s opinion over Oscar’s. 

Ruby chews her inner cheek, turmoil in her eyes. Weiss yawns, politely covering her mouth with a hand. Graceful even at their lowest point. 

“Yang’s just… she’s stubborn. She takes after her mom. At least, that’s what Uncle Qrow and Dad say. She might not be able to see past her anger of Ozpin to see  _ you _ , right now. Which isn’t okay! I just- I’ll talk to her. You don’t deserve to be the— um, for lack of better term, punching bag.”

She winces. 

“Not my best motivational speech, huh?”

Oscar giggles, shaking his head. Ruby smiles in relief, she and Weiss sharing a meaningful look over his head. She, too, then yawns, arms stretching high above her head. Gathering some cans in her arms, she pushes herself to her feet.

“Come on, Weiss, let’s go prepare dinner! I hope they have salt…” Ruby bounces on her toes as Weiss collects her half of the cans and stands. She looks down at Oscar with sympathy and a fondness so strong the boy can only compare it to his aunt’s. 

“Want to join us?” She asks, but he shakes his head. 

“Can’t; buddy system.” He nods towards Maria. “But thank you, Weiss. Just make sure she doesn’t drown us in salt?” 

Ruby had been allowed to cook on her own  _ once  _ in Mistral. That number never increased for a reason. 

“You got it, chef.” Weiss winks, then turns and joins Ruby in the entranceway before the two disappear into the kitchen. Thus leaving Oscar alone again. Or, as alone as he could be with two old people. Does the term senile apply to either of them?

_ Hey. _

“I thought you couldn’t read my thoughts?” He whispers, facing away from Maria. 

_ I can’t, but I can feel you being a mischievous little… child.  _

He rolls his eyes with a smile, ignoring Ozpin’s implied insult. The man had a funny distaste for cursing. “It would be helpful if I could talk to you without actually talking out loud, especially now that I’m…”

_ Doing the very thing that got us into this mess? _

He grimaces. “Yeah.  _ That _ . It feels horrible. How did you do it so easily?”

_ It became second nature. As natural as one breathes.  _

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

_ I did what was needed for the survival of humanity.  _

He doesn’t know what to say to that. Oscar has always considered himself honest and loyal, right down to the bone, but something about Ozpin’s reaction to Jinn caused him to second guess his moral upbringing entirely.  _ Could _ it be good to lie? For the better good? If Ruby and the others never learned of Ozpin’s secrets, wouldn’t they be much more hopeful now? Still determined?

Ozpin wouldn’t be in his current state, that’s for sure. If Oscar focuses, really reaches back towards Ozpin, he can feel the pure  _ hurt  _ the other man holds in his heart. Behind clenched eyelids, he sees flashes of his daughters, their scared eyes wide and afraid. 

Quickly, with a gasp, he pulls back. Even just a small glimpse is too raw, too much for Oscar’s heart to handle. He shakes his head, attempting to stop that connection before it can hurt either of them further. 

“Sorry.”

_ My life is yours.  _ Causally stated, as if he would shrug if he had a body.  _ You will know these memories like the back of your hand, one day.  _

“I shouldn’t pry like that. Especially not so soon.”

_ Oscar…  _ the man pauses, a great apprehension bubbling within him.  _ I only wish to protect you from my burdens, as much as I can before they become your own. From here on, if you wish to know something, you are free to search for the answers. The fact that you are allowing me to recover out of sight for my own selfish needs means very much to me, the least I can do is be completely honest with you moving forward. _

“I think it’s okay to be selfish, sometimes. You need to heal, even if your wounds aren’t physical,” he argues weakly. Though, he knows it is hypocritical to hide Ozpin’s return like this. Is it so wrong, though, for him to have the man to himself for just one night? Maybe a few more? Ozpin’s presence certainly wouldn’t put a smile on anyone’s face in their current states. The more he thinks about it, the more he sees the advantage of Ozpin’s ways. Is that his own mind speaking, though, or just another part of the merge? 

He groans, clutching his hair. It hurts to think about. The pounding behind his eyes is almost unbearable. He doesn’t know where his consciousness ends and Ozpin’s begins anymore. Is he even still his own person? Are his changes of opinion a sign of growth or corruption?

_It’s alright,_ Ozpin soothes him, a wave of calm rushing through his body, though a bit of Ozpin’s guilt leaks with it. _You’ve done so much for me already, Oscar. If you wish to come clean to the girls, I won’t stop you._ The man can put on a bold facade all he wants, but Ozpin can’t disguise how badly he _does_ _not_ want Oscar to make that choice. One advantage of their emotional link; there is no hiding feelings. Oscar hadn’t any plans to do so in the near future, luckily for the old soul. 

“ _ I _ don’t want to _ ,”  _ the boy hisses, silently, still very aware of the old woman reading her book behind him across the room. “I don’t want them to shun me again, I don’t want to be punched or yelled at, and I don’t want to hurt  _ you.  _ I’m being selfish, too.”

_ I- thank you. But my feelings hardly matter- _

“ _ Don’t they?”  _ He clutches harder, his scalp burning. “We share a mind, we share a heart. I care about you, too, Ozpin. Maybe even… most of all. Because you know  _ me _ , and- you’re- we’re-“ he cuts himself off with a choked croak. 

_ I care for you, too, Oscar.  _ His hands fall to his lap against his command.  _ Not just because you’re my host, but because I care for you as your own person. Please stop hurting yourself. Breathe.  _

He obeys, slowing himself down, following Ozpin’s counting until his heart has calmed considerably. The headache, however, does not dullen.

_ I know this is all very confusing and, admittedly, a bit torturous, but I am here for you. I always will be.  _ It’s ironic that this statement is what serves to calm him most.  _ Whatever choices you decide to make moving forward, I will not stop you. I owe you that and much more.  _

“Okay,” he mumbles, head hanging limply. He’s so tired. 

“If you’re done with your mental breakdown, how about listening to the rest of this story? There’s only one entry left in this first book and you’ve missed quite a bit!” Maria says from her spot on the couch. Oscar startles, whipping his head around to look at her, stuttering. 

“I- sorry! I was trying to talk to him-“

“I don’t care.” She snaps with a dismissive wave of her hand, but softens, a considerate twitch to her lips. “A distraction might do you some good, young man, so let an old lady entertain you before she dies of boredom.”

He laughs, almost in disbelief at how well she manages to balance sassy and considerate. 

_ Go, indulge the poor woman. I’ll be just a whisper away. _

_ “ _ Thank you,” he says, to the both of them.

Maria narrates as Oscar paces, a need to burn off some manic energy so he doesn’t slip up and confess everything or break down again. While he paces, Blake and Yang return, the air between them thick with a tension Oscar wants absolutely no part of, no thank you. So he relocates his pacing behind Maria as the two girls sit by the fire, the old lady serving as a physical and metaphorical barrier between them. She opens the second book and continues reading with no hesitation, sometimes falling silent to catch a breather and process the diary on her own, leaving Oscar’s footsteps against the soft wooden floors to fill the void left in her voice’s absence. 

Thankfully, heating up some canned beans and vegetables doesn’t take too long with the help of fire dust, and the utensils and plates left behind from the deceased family were all located in the cabinets, collecting normal dust without a scratch on them. Weiss returns to the living space first, carrying a stack of cleaned plates and glasses with the grace of a princess raised on perfect posture, straight from the movies. Oscar rushes to relieve her of half her load, taking the stack of plates for himself to place them on the coffee table. Ruby follows shortly after, a large bowl in each hand, one filled with beans, the other a mix of boiled vegetables.

“Dinner time!” She announces, the bowls coming to rest on the table next to the dinnerware. Steam rises from the food and Oscar’s mouth waters at the smell. It’s nothing special, but hot food is hot food, and he’s a growing boy. Living on a farm taught many things, and one of them was to never look a gift horse in the mouth. Or a cow. “I’ll go get the rest of the cups. Hope you like water with a side of ice!”

Both Oscar and Weiss laugh softly, eyes following their leader fondly as she leaves the room. Leave it up to Ruby to remain optimistic in even the crummiest situations. Blake’s ears swivel at their conversation, but her yellow eyes remain focused on the fire. Yang turns to look at the food, her brow already furrowed, and her gaze meets Oscar’s. The smile falls off of him in an instant, and he isn’t quick enough to reel his emotions backwards before a less than pleasant expression crosses his face. He cools his jets, enough to level his gaze to something neutral and look away, but not before Yang sees. No, she definitely saw Oscar’s hurt, and the tight pull of her lips falls into a frown before she sighs dejectedly and turns back to the fireplace.

He wants to feel guilty, to feel wrong for holding a small grudge, but if anything has changed in Oscar since he embarked on this journey to save the world, it’s his freely given forgiveness. Why should he allow himself to be stepped on by others, just because they’re upset? He’s not going to lash out, Gods no, but he’s no longer going to allow himself to be their punching bag, as Ruby had put it. 

_ If you glare any longer, you might burn a hole into her head. _

“Ah-” he begins, then cuts himself off with a sharp  _ clack  _ of his teeth. 

_ Careful now. _

It’s a bit hard to be careful with  _ someone  _ not making this any easier. Oscar pointedly glares at the floor, hoping Ozpin gets the message. He does, with an air of detached amusement, and recedes back into his subconsciousness. 

“What’s wrong?” Weiss asks, turning from where she’d been plating the beans and vegetables onto the plates. Somehow, she’s managed to make them look fancy. As fancy as beans and boiled veggies can get, anyways. Oscar smiles.

“Nothing!” He motions to the platings. “I, uh, like the way you’re doing those?” Okay, that just sounded lame. He clears his throat. “I mean— it’s… neat? That you can manage to make such a simple ‘meal’ look good? I’m so bad at this.”

Weiss, being the angel she is, just laughs sweetly and bobs her head.    
“Thank you, Oscar, I’m glad someone appreciates the finer details in life. Who knew a rural farm boy would be the most relatable person on this trip.” 

“Hey, I like fancy food!” Ruby interjects, haphazardly placing four glasses of water onto the table. Weiss turns without missing a beat and pokes Ruby’s forehead.

“We weren’t talking about the  _ food,  _ Ruby! It’s all about presentation!” Her hand falls to hold her wrist, a wistful smile gracing her lips as she shifts her weight between feet. “Klein used to let me into the kitchen, sometimes, and show me how to decorate dishes for formal events. My favorite part was always topping the dish with a bit of garnish.” She mimics sprinkling toppings onto the dishes, lost in her memory. 

Oscar picks up a plate and a fork, surveying the meal with a closer look.

“It looks very pretty, even without the garnish,” he says. “As pretty as canned beans can be.”

She snorts, and now it’s his turn to earn a poke to the forehead. 

“I slaved over a hot stove to make this meal,” she says dramatically, throwing a hand over her face like an actress in a melodrama. From underneath her knuckles, she smirks playfully. “You better enjoy it.”

“I know I will,” Ruby says, taking her own plate and plopping down in the middle of the rug, digging into her food before her butt even hits the floor. Oscar sits next to her, Weiss placing their glasses next to them before joining. They leave the semi circle open in case Blake or Yang want to join them, but the two girls take their dinners and sit by the fire in silence. Neither Weiss nor Oscar miss the way Ruby falters in her eating, disappointed by her sister’s self-isolation, before pushing it down. Maria eats in her chair, leaving the three on the rug to murmur amongst themselves quietly.

There’s not much to say, right now; everyone is just waiting for something to happen, something to disturb their first moment of peace together. Weiss, though she smiles and contributes to the conversation, has a distant air about her, and Yang and Blake won’t even speak. Maybe they’re just all tired and things will be better in the morning. 

After getting her fill, Ruby leaves in search for Qrow while Oscar and Weiss clean up.

“It would feel wrong to use their belongings without cleaning them,” Oscar had supplied after he suggested scrubbing the dishes, to which Weiss simply shook her head with a smile and jested him for his ‘pure farm boy upbringing.’ Together they stand side by side in front of the kitchen sink, the water still running as Weiss scrubs the dishes and Oscar dries them. 

_ Good to see your manners haven’t gone anywhere. _

Oscar rolls his eyes, holding back a snort. It’s almost concerning how quickly he’s coming to terms with the guilt of lying to his friends right in front of their faces. But, one glance at Weiss’s drooping eyelids or troubled expression when she thinks Oscar isn’t looking is enough for him to bite his tongue. This is for the greater good, he reasons, and it’s impossible to tell if he’s lying to himself or not.

They return to the living room minutes before Ruby does, telling them to get some sleep, that Qrow will wake them at sunrise. 

“Thank goodness,” Blake says, nursing her temple. Oscar, Blake, and Weiss hand out blankets and pillows, and they all take their places on the floor near the fire, sans Maria and Qrow. Oscar hasn’t seen Qrow in a bit, not since the pairs split off, but he’s not complaining. Ozpin, however, almost vibrates with worry in their headspace. Knowing his fretting has been noticed, Ozpin sighs.

_ I worry for him the most. Qrow has been one of my most trusted allies— one of my closest  _ **_friends_ ** ,  _ for more than half of his life. I can only imagine his heartbreak. _

“ _ Not like drinking will make it any better,”  _ Oscar whispers, so softly he can barely even hear himself, wincing when Blake’s ear flicks. She doesn’t so much as shift beyond that, probably too tired to care, or just a coincidence.

_ Exactly why I worry. I know your feelings towards him are not particularly fond at the moment, but please keep an eye on him. _

Why should a grown adult be  _ his  _ problem? He huffs, reminding himself of his own age. Gods, he was acting very childish today. 

_ You’re displeased. I suppose I cannot blame you. He throws a nasty right hook. _

Oscar rolls his eyes, but sighs in defeat. Fine, he would add babysitting Qrow to his tally of chores. What’s another to the never ending list?

_ How about I tell you a bedtime story?  _

Ouch, really rubbing in Oscar’s recent age-appropriate behavior as of late, wasn’t he? He turns onto his right side, pulling the blanket closer to his chin. Well, he did enjoy Ozpin’s stories a lot, so he wouldn’t argue. 

_ Splendid. This weather reminds me of a certain costume party Glynda will never let me live down… _

The old wizard rambles on about his humorous anecdote as Ruby and Yang’s soft snores fill the air. Oscar, only half tuned in from the beginning, is quick to succumb to sleep. Hopefully tomorrow will bring higher spirits. 


	2. Out of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang deals with the Apathy and heads towards Argus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: There will be flashbacks to moments in Volumes 4-5 thrown in!!! Usually at the beginning of a chapter. I want to show how Oscar's interactions change with the gang because of him being a Faunus, and also want to explore the downtime in Mistral that we didn't get to see! Won't be huge flashbacks, of course, don't wanna take away from the main plot.

_You’re making the right decision, Oscar._

“Oh, am I? Abandoning my aunt to tend to an entire farm by herself without so much as a goodbye doesn’t _feel_ like the right decision. I’m crazy. I have actually gone insane.”

_As I have assured many times: you are perfectly fine. Well, aside from any predispositions you may have had before my arrival._

“I’m talking to the voice of an old man inside my head…”

_You also live in a world where every person has a unique power and monsters of pure destruction scour the lands. This is hardly out of the ordinary._

_“Urrrgh! Stop talking to me!_ I already did what you asked, can you please shut up?!” 

Oscar Pine, former farm boy as of one hour ago, clutches his shaggy brown hair with two worn gloves and pulls, _hard._ He whimpers, the pain of his tugged scalp only adding to his building headache. This man inside him, if he’s even _real_ , won’t stop _talking_ and saying the _scariest things._

“I don’t want to be here. I want to be home with my aunt and the cows, not traveling across nations to find some guy I don’t even know!”

_…._

Right, he’d demanded for Ozpin’s silence. Ozpin, the youngest academy headmaster Remnant has ever seen, also an immortal wizard with magical powers who latches onto a new soul with each death and drains them of their life until they are nothing more than a walking husk for him to control. Oscar is that new vessel now, because of course he is. Just when he’d gotten adjusted to his own life again, thought things were finally looking up, it all came crashing down. 

With one death, one stubborn old man, and one boy’s inability to ignore lifetimes of guilt, two souls now trek towards the nearest town with a new destination in mind. He’s an anxious enough person already- this is just the tipping point to one very long lasting mental breakdown. He doesn’t want to save the world. He doesn’t want to fight evil murderers and masterminds. 

…..

But he also doesn’t want to live on a farm forever. 

It starts to rain. 

* * *

“Oscar.” Someone shakes his shoulder gently. “We have to get up.” Weakly, he groans, pulling the blankets tighter around his form. His mouth feels like he just dove into a cotton field face first, and his splitting headache is like someone filled a crack in his skull with water then blasted it with ice dust. He feels like a train wreck. 

The person who’s voice he recognizes as Weiss tries again, fingers brushing his bangs from his forehead. 

“Come on, we already slept in enough. Aren’t farmhands supposed to wake up early, or something? I know for a fact you’ve always woken up before me.”

Not hard, considering the ex-heiress slept until noon whenever she could. 

“M’still tired,” he mumbles, barely able to even open his eyes. Why does it feel like he’s drowning in glue?

Her hand presses flat against his forehead as she hums in thought. 

“You don’t _feel_ sick.” She sighs. “Hold on, I’ll fetch you a glass of water.”

He falls back asleep as soon as she’s gone, which lasts all of one minute. Could have been an hour. Oscar is barely conscious still when she lifts him into a sitting position and practically forces water down his throat. Well, that’s much better. At least he can breathe properly now. 

“Thanks,” he yawns, scrubbing his eyes. “Sorry.” He meets her gaze sheepishly, embarrassed that she had to pamper him like that, though it’d be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy it just a little. Weiss smooths his bed head like a doting mother. Maybe she liked dishing out the treatment as much as he enjoyed receiving it. 

“It’s okay, you were injured. You needed that sleep more than any of us.” They rise to their feet together, Weiss dusting off her knees. “Everyone else is waiting outside. Yang needs me to help set up the wagon. Do you need anything before we go?”

“I’m good,” he pats himself down. Cane? Check. Ozpin?

_Good morning._

Check. 

Yup, that’s everything. 

The cold snips his nose as soon as they step out of the house, but it isn’t nearly as harsh as it had been yesterday. It stings his eyes, and he isn’t half asleep, but he certainly isn’t fully awake yet. With each step down the front porch’s stairs he feels his energy drain. He drops down on the stair next to Blake, running a hand through his hair and messing it up again. She looks just as tired as he feels. They all do, minus Ruby, but that’s not saying much. Maria settles a few steps above them, another installment of the diaries open on her lap. 

“There,” Weiss announces, standing back to her full height where she’d been hunched over Bumblebee’s new hitch. Oscar blinks lazily, watching with a hand propping up his chin.

“Can we just go back to bed?” he asks, words like molasses leaving his mouth.

“If we’re all so tired, maybe we should just make breakfast?” Blake suggests.

“Do you wanna make it?”  
“Not really.”

He doesn’t either. Ruby and Qrow emerge from the shed pushing the trailer wagon. Even from a distance, the dark purple bags under Qrow’s eyes are visible, a stark contrast from his pale skin. Ozpin doesn’t say anything, but his presence flares briefly at the sight. 

It’s easy to zone out, focus on projecting his aura to protect from the cold instead of listening to whatever bickering is in store for the team next. Brothers know the tensions from yesterday haven’t eased up in the least. The shared exhaustion is the only reason no one has gotten snappy yet.

A tire pops. 

“You people are just beacons of bad luck, aren’t you?”

There’s a shared wince amongst the girls and Oscar. Of course, Maria has no idea what Qrow’s semblance is so they can’t blame her for the unfortunately accurate choice of words, but the statement is like a splash of lemon juice straight into the open wound that is Qrow’s current psyche. 

The huntsman growls, stalking a decent distance away before falling onto his backside with purpose, flask already in hand. 

Yang slides down the bricks of the well’s opening, landing in the snow with a soft thump. She sighs, “I'm starting to think the universe just doesn't want us getting to Atlas.”

“It's just a flat tire, I'm sure there's a spare,” Ruby tries. 

“It's not just that, it's everything. Storms, crashes, monsters…” Another sigh, deeper. “I'm so tired…”

“Me too. It feels like we're always having to fight to get by,” Blake adds, ears flat against her hair. 

“Yeah. But that's what we signed up for.” Ruby looks between her teammates, desperate to shake them from their defeat. 

“We signed up to try and save the world, not just... delay the inevitable,” Oscar says. Ozpin adds his own input, a rebuttal of sorts, but Oscar can’t hear him over the ringing between his ears. Between fighting to stay awake and suffering from a migraine, the boy isn’t in any mood to focus on more than one conversation at once. 

Weiss steps forward next, putting a hand in her arm. “Last night, I... I couldn't stop thinking - why _are_ we even going to Atlas?”

The four girls share troubled looks. Oscar slumps against the stair’s railing, closing his eyes. If the girls want to get into another debate, he’s going to sit this one out, _despite_ Ozpin’s insistence he pitch in. Does the old man not remember the consequences of Oscar taking action yesterday? No, he’s fine here out of the way, mouth shut in a firm line. The longer he nods off, the quieter the sounds of the world around him get, _including_ the voice inside his head. 

Then, Ruby screams and lurches over the side of the well to grasp at thin air. Where her eyes had just been dilated and drooping, they’re wide open now, frantic and desperate. 

“No! No! No! I didn't mean to!” She cries, hands shaking. Oscar manages to open his eyes, watching in a trance. Her teammates continue to stare at her with dazed looks.

“Ruby, it's okay.”

“No! No, there's something down there! I saw it, it was looking at me!”

Ruby looks back inside the well, only to notice whatever was once there, is now gone. Had anything even been there to start with?

Yang rests a hand on her sister's shoulder. ”Hey, it's okay. You just said you're tired. It's probably nothing. Now let's go.”

Oh, they’re finally leaving? 

Ruby swats Yang's hand off, offended. “What's wrong with you?! We can't just leave, we have to go down there! We have to get the lamp back! Oh, what was I thinking?!” She buries her face in her hands, crying out in frustration. 

“All we have to do is fix this trailer. Hey, farm boy, check the shed for a spare,” Qrow finally steps in, shooting an unimpressed look at Oscar as he begins walking towards the house. Oscar flinches away, as though he could shrink himself down enough not to be in the man’s stomping path. 

“I'm not leaving without the lamp!” Ruby demands. _Oh thank goodness,_ Ozpin sighs in relief. 

The girls continue to stare at Ruby, as if she’s lost her mind. Oscar barely had a clue what’s going on, too preoccupied with Qrow’s command. Drunk and angry is not a good combination, and Oscar does _not_ want a taste of the cocktail, so he shuffles aside, eyes on the shed. 

Blake exhales, shoulders deflating even further. “I'll go down with you…” she offers. 

“We'll go down together,” says Weiss. 

“Fine!” Qrow pushes past Oscar as he clampers up the porch. “Get the stupid lamp. Oscar, fix the stupid tire.”

He passes by Maria on the porch. The woman glares up at him from her seat on the top step. 

“Where are you going?”

“Where do you think?” He shakes his flask and walks back into the house, slamming the door behind him. 

Maria looks down, shaking her head. 

“ _Stupid…_ ”

Watching as the girls descend the well, Oscar rubs his arms together to fight off the cold, a bit more awake now that he’s been assigned a task. Find a spare tire, lug said tire over to wagon, remove old tire, and replace with new one. Okay. He could do that. Why Qrow assumed _he_ would know how to do this just because he was raised on a farm is beyond him. What if he was never taught? Huh?

_Pouting over your grudge with Qrow isn’t going to get that tire replaced._

“I know,” he grumbles, swiveling on his heels and trudging towards the shed. “And no, I’m not going to go check on him.”

_I was not planning to ask that of you._

“Yeah, but your worrying over him is clouding basically every other emotion I want to feel right now, like frustration at being the errand boy.”

He pushes open the shed doors, steps inside, and closes them promptly, sagging against the rotting wood. Alone and out of the wind. Nice. 

Just one moment. It would take the girls a while to find the Relic in the dark well, so he has a second to breathe. Also, get Ozpin’s opinion on this whole situation.

“Were you paying attention to all that? Why is the Relic in the well?” he asks, eyes scanning the dark shelves and clutter surrounding him. 

_I did not catch the entire conversation beyond a few concerning words. Are you sure you do not want me to lend aid? You seem… rather unwell._

“I was punched into a tree. It’s fine, Oz, just didn’t get enough sleep.” He stretches, cracking his back and rolling his neck, scrunching his nose. “The floor wasn’t exactly comfortable, either.”

 _Well, hopefully Argus will have an inn with beds to your liking._ It’s a genuine statement. Ozpin probably didn’t enjoy sleeping on a cold wooden floor either.

“Please don’t talk about beds right now,” he fights back a yawn. “I might just pass out on my feet.”

He spots a tire, high on the top shelf. Why would anyone put that there? He tests his foot on the bottom shelf, pressing his weight carefully. Something is on the tip of Ozpin’s tongue. Oscar waits patiently for him to speak, reaching for the tire. 

_Delaying the inevitable._

“Huh?”

_You said, ‘We signed up to try and save the world, not just delay the inevitable.’_

“Oh,” he frowns. “Did I?”

 _Yes._ Ozpin would frown. _Oscar, you must understand; everything I have done thus far, there has been a_ **_purpose._ ** _It may not look like we are winning, if you consider victory absolute triumph, but we are certainly not_ **_losing._ **

“I… don’t follow?”  
Ozpin sighs. He’s also tired.

 _Think. The world around you… humanity is still on its feet. People are living, walking free. She may not be_ **_defeated_ ** _but she is also not_ **_succeeding_ ** _. Not entirely. Do you understand what I’m saying?_

“Y-yes…? Yeah.” He reaches the tire, pulling it off of the shelf with one hand, the other gripping a bar to keep balance. The tire falls, bouncing on the ground and crashing into a nearby crate. Oscar lands back on his feet, dust kicking up into the air. He grabs the air pump, which is on the floor and not five feet above his head, bless the Gods.

_I have been at war with her forces for many years. The fact that you are standing here today, alive and free, means the powers of good have prevailed at least enough, don’t you think? Our actions, though not glorious on the surface, have still had a great impact._

“Who are you trying to convince here?”

_Would ‘the both of us’ be a reassuring answer?_

Oscar chuckles. “Yeah. Good enough for me.” He lifts the tire and rolls it toward the exit. “I get what you’re saying now. Sorry for… denouncing all of your hard work like that. I know you’ve been fighting harder than any of us. It’s been a rough morning.”

_It’s quite alright. I often doubt I’ve done more good than harm, myself._

Oscar’s hands rest on the door’s panels. This could be their last conversation for a while, and he doesn’t want to end it on such a depressing note.

“Um, so, I was thinking…” 

Amused, Ozpin chuckles. _Yes, Oscar?_

“When we get to Argus, if we have the time, is there anything _you_ want to do? Before we leave for Atlas?”

Touched, and unable to hide his surprise, Ozpin says, _Oh? Why do you ask?_

Oscar’s hands fall from the shed doors, his forehead coming to rest against the wood, worrying the edge of his worn glove between two fingers. 

“I think you deserve something nice, after… after yesterday— after all this time. When was the last self care day you had?”

_Self care day?_

Oscar pushes on the doors, a bit self conscious. This is all new to him, too.

“Nora told me about it. It’s when you take a day to just relax and do whatever you want—you... weren’t asking for a definition, were you?”

 _No,_ he laughs softly. _But thank you. Though can it be considered a_ ** _self_** _care day if_ ** _you_** _are_ _the one caring for me?_

“Ugh, don’t start another paradox in my head again, please. Just accept the offer so I don’t go crazy.”

 _If you wish; we can have a_ **_selves_ ** _care day._

He sticks his tongue out in a playful grimace. 

“Blegh, leave the puns to Yang.”

_That was not a pun. It was a play on words. Very different._

“If you say so,” Oscar says, now smiling truly. “Talk to you later.”

Despite how long his conversation with Ozpin lasted, the girls still aren’t back by the time he rolls the tire all the way out to the wagon. In fact, Maria is gone, too. Oscar shrugs, amounting her disappearance up to the likely chance that she moved her reading inside and out of the cold until everything was ready.

He gets to work on changing the tire, shaking off the last bits of sleep as the air pump vibrates. The sound is so loud he doesn’t hear the shouting until the front door bursts open, Blake and Yang running so fast they soar right over the stairs.

“Oscar! Oscar!” Yang yells. Maria also shouts his name, and he stares, bewildered, as they sprint around him to the trailer. “Oscar, we have to go. _Now!”_ Yang sidesteps past where he’s rooted in place and lifts the trailer onto Bumblebee’s hitch. Blake is the one to turn off the air pump and throw it aside. 

Gaining his wits, Oscar rushes to help Maria into the back, the book still clutched in her hand, her cane in the other. Distantly, Qrow’s slurred yells mix with Ruby’s own pleas for her uncle to move. Then, after a roar of flames, Ruby emerges with Qrow on her arm, as he himself is in a state of shock. Weiss exits last, saber in hand, a tremor in her knees as she climbs into the wagon. 

No longer are the dazed expressions and dilated pupils on the girls’ faces as they speed away, sleet skidding under the tires as the house erupts in flames, dark black smoke billowing from every window and into the snowy air. Oscar can only watch, confused, and hold onto Maria as they swerve out of the farms, back onto the forest path. 

Only once the farms are out of sight do the girls calm, Ruby slumping back against the railings to the farm boy’s right. Maria shrugs herself out of Oscar’s hold, flipping open to the last pages of the diary, searching for something. 

“W-what was that?” Oscar stutters, his heart still racing. Ruby pulls him back to her side by the shoulder, a solid weight, the comforting look of a leader and friend. He relaxes, shuffling back against the railing, their arms pressed together. Maria hands Oscar the book, pointing to the second paragraph on the first page.

“The Apathy,” she explains. “They're not strong or ferocious. They drain your will to go on. Bartleby's estate was hemorrhaging money towards the end. He wanted to cut costs on Huntsman protection, but in order to do that, he needed everyone calm... _always_.”

Oscar reads from the book as instructed. "’Managed to get two away from their pack. Hike back was miserable, but got the bastards in the cellar. Wife thinks I was out sealing the waterway entrance. I'll do it tomorrow and tell her the truth once these things take the edge off of everyone. I'm tired.’" 

“The next page proves that he did, but not before the rest of the pack followed their missing pair all the way home. My guess is they made their way beneath the estate through the water tunnels that Bartleby sealed up the next morning. Bartleby's plan worked.” She takes the book from Oscar. He’s glad to rid himself of it. “No one was angry, or sad, or scared. No one was anything. And then... no one was left.”

Haunting. Oscar shivers, pulling his knees into his chest. Ruby wraps her cape around their shoulders.

Maria takes one more look at the final page of the diary, robotic eyes squinted. She then closes the book and tosses it out into the snow, never to be read again.

Weiss’s eyes rise to meet Ruby’s, guilty and crystal blue. “I'm... sorry for what I said... about giving up. I’ve just been questioning everything I know, lately.”

Yang stops driving, turning in her seat so she can join the conversation.

“Me too, but we can't quit until the lamp is safe. Going to Atlas is the only plan we have right now. Until we come up with something better, we’re staying on course.”

“It's not your fault. It was those... things.” Blake twirls a strand of hair, fidgeting, eyes downcast as though she doesn’t believe her own words. Weiss shakes her head, sighing.

“No… I’ve been having doubts before we even made it to the farm. Yang is right.”

Maria scoffs. “I should have known. The signs were all there, but I'd never seen an entire settlement withered away like that. I suppose my mind just isn't what it used to be.”

 _I should have known, as well,_ Ozpin thinks. Oscar wishes he could excuse the man of his worries, reason with him not to bear all of the burdens so willingly. They’d been busy with other issues, after all. 

“Miss Calavera?” Ruby speaks. “How do you know so much about the Grimm? And in the tunnels, you knew exactly what to say to make me... to make my eyes do that. How?”

The old lady smirks. “Well, isn't it obvious, girl? I had silver eyes.”

 _Ah._ A hint of recognition. Does Ozpin know Maria after all? _I knew that skull was familiar._

As they travel, Maria recounts her past life as the Grimm Reaper; her travels, her powers, her weapons, and the final battle that lead to the loss of her eyes. Oscar’s never heard of her before, not having been much of a huntsman fanatic himself back on the farm, but Ruby’s eyes sparkle with admiration as Maria explains the machinations of her dual scythes. Even Qrow looks a bit awestruck. As it turns out, he admired her in his youth, moreso than his niece currently does. 

She lectures them, then, to not look up to her, to instead recognize her cowardice and how much of a disappointment she is. The way she speaks so lowly of herself, like these are facts, reminds Oscar of Ozpin’s own opinion of himself. What was up with old people and their low self esteem? Not that Oscar had an entirely high view of his own self worth either.

The ringing of a scroll interrupts them, and Ruby pulls it from her pocket. Oscar’s chest flutters when he sees Jaune’s contact picture, the name ‘Vomit Boy’ flashing on screen as Ruby hurriedly answers the call.

“Uh, hello?”

_“Ruby! Oh, thank you! I've been checking my Scroll for your signal since we made it to the city!”_

_“_ The city? Wait…” Ruby looks to her Scroll, to the little signal symbol under Jaune's portrait, watching it grow stronger as she points her scroll toward the road ahead. Up further there is a hill where the snow ends. Yang proceeds forward to drive them up the hill, the sky painted a beautiful color against the vast ocean beyond it. At the peak, they can all see the walled city of Argus in the distance.

Yang places her hands on her hips, a cheerful grin accompanying her words. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived in Argus.”

Their moods swing directly into happier territory at the sound of Jaune’s voice and the sight of their destination. Over the speaker, Ruby and Jaune converse, planning to meet up near the parking garages located by the entrance of the city. With a knowing look, Ruby holds the scroll to Oscar, encouraging him to speak.

“Jaune!” he exclaims, accepting the girl’s scroll with a delicate hold. 

_“Oscar? Hey! Gods, it’s good to hear you again, bud. We miss you. Nora especially.”_

“It’s been _one_ day,” Weiss says, rolling her eyes. “Save the sappiness for our _actual_ reunion.”

 _“It’s nice to hear from you, too, Ice Queen.”_ Nora’s laugh is muffled in the background. Weiss scoffs and flips her hair, but she’s smiling. _“Okay, we’ll see you guys there. Try not to get in trouble until then?”_

“It’s like, five minutes away! What could go wrong?” Ruby groans. “Actually, never mind. I realized how dumb that sounded the moment it left my mouth. See you in a bit!”

Oscar knocks on the wood of the wagon for her sake, then returns the scroll. 

Entrance into Argus is fairly easy. Team RWBY and Maria have their identifications on their scrolls, former students of Beacon and former huntress, and Qrow has his high ranking professional huntsman license. They allow Oscar in, despite him having none of these things, under Qrow’s vouching that he’s a student as well, just lost his scroll out in the storm. They take his word for it—the advantage of higher rankings at work. Plus, they all look a mess, driving into the city with only the clothes on their back and a few suitcases to their name. It would be hard to turn down any citizens, identification or not, arriving on a ride so pitiful looking. 

Yang leads Bumblebee into a storage unit as the rest of the gang looks around for team JNR through the bustling crowd. Oscar, still unused to crowds after all his time off the farm, gravitates towards Weiss, who stands on her toes and peers around. She’s short, just like Oscar, so they can’t see much above a crowd of adults.

Luckily, Nora always has a way of making herself noticeable. 

_“Cute! Boy! OZ!!!”_ She shouts, pointing a finger at Oscar with a wicked grin, electricity sparking in her irises. He doesn’t have time to plant his feet firmly before she tackles him. Not that any amount of bracing for impact would have saved him from toppling to the ground under the weight of a full-blown Nora dive-hug. He lands flat on his back, the bruises on his spine complaining, but they’ve healed enough where he can ignore it in favor of laughing and hugging Nora back as she lies completely on top of him. The crowd parts, onlookers giving them weird stares, but when have they ever been normal?

“Oh, come here!” She giggles, nuzzling into his hair like a puppy, her legs kicking back and forth between his knees. He laughs, having had enough, and pushes her away. She takes no offense. In fact, her attention instantly moves on to Maria, where she points. “Wait! Who’s the old lady?”

She’s ignored, for the moment, as Blake joins the little commotion.

“I’m so glad you’re all safe.”

“Seriously…” Weiss adds.

Nora jumps up and down, pulling Oscar to his feet and encasing him in another hug from behind, her arms hanging over and around his shoulders, chin atop his head. He preens at the positive attention, cheeks burning red. Ren pats Oscar’s shoulder. 

The difference in JNR’s treatment towards him is almost enough to induce whiplash. For now, he decides to savor the moment. 

Jaune and Ruby break apart from their hug, the boy wiping a tear from his eye. “Yeah, you did,” he says to her. Then, to the group, “It’s good to see you guys.” He locks eyes with Oscar, and the farm boy grins, waving shyly. 

“Let’s gooooo!” Nora bounces away and in between, taking lead of the group. “I’m so hungry I could eat a beowulf! Five beowulf’s! Wolves? Wolf?” 

And just like that, they head into the city, once again a whole team, with the addition of Maria, who introduces herself as she once had back at the train crash site. 

Oscar gravitates towards the back, Weiss to his right and Jaune to his left. The two people he feels closest to, funnily enough, though he figures that’s why they’re by his side right now. Jaune, like the older brother he never had, and Weiss much of the same, but a sister.

The blonde nudges Oscar’s shoulder with his elbow, towering above him but never making him feel small. “Hey,” he says, a wave of emotions behind just the one word. Relief, fondness, love, care— almost enough to make Oscar misty eyed. He blinks, eyes falling to his shoes.

“Hey,” he responds instead, hoping Jaune feels just as much in the mirrored greeting. Judging by the arm that wraps around his shoulders with a squeeze, it’s safe to say he does. They’ve only been apart for a day but it’s easily been one of the most stressful days of Oscar’s life, no doubt. Jaune must have gone through some stress as well, facing the unknown of his friends’ whereabouts. He knows Jaune is the youngest of seven older sisters, and he likes to indulge himself in the fantasy that Jaune sees Oscar as the brother he never had, just as he does. 

“Did the girls treat you well?” He asks innocently. Weiss tenses on Oscar’s other side, hand gripping her opposite wrist awkwardly. 

“They did,” Oscar says, looking over to Weiss with a forgiving smile. If anyone had to feel guilty about the last few days, it was definitely _not_ her. She and Ruby have been his rocks through this storm. The Schnee returns his smile, tension leaving her shoulders considerably. 

“Good! Because I’m not sure they’d listen to any lecture I’d have to give them, anyways. They’d listen to Nora, maybe. She’s been worrying more than I have, if you can believe it.”

“I don’t think I can,” Oscar chuckles. Up front, Nora bounces along the sidewalk, jumping onto every curb and light pole in her path, the embodiment of cheer. 

“This city is nice,” Weiss comments. There’s snow piled on the street side, and there’s construction every few blocks, but the infrastructure is modern and aesthetically pleasing. Atlas’s influence in terms of innovation is not unnoticed. It’s like a touch of home without the stress that comes with the real deal. 

“Meh, it’s no Vale.” Jaune shrugs. “They’ve got an awesome movie theater, though. Maybe we can-“

“Oh look, a trolley!” Weiss skips ahead, feigning obliviousness to Jaune’s advances. He sags in defeat of yet another rejection. 

“Um, no offense, but I don’t think you’re ever going to get the Ice Queen on a date.”

“I’m not trying to go on a date with her! Not anymore. I just wanna be friends, you know?” He ruffles Oscar’s hair, smirking. “And I don’t have the advantage of big cute puppy eyes like you do.” He swats Jaune’s hand away. 

“Maybe if you just told her without the theatrics, she would say yes?”

“Pppffftt. That’s too easy. There’s no fun in that!” Oscar tilts his head in confusion. Jaune waves away his questioning look. “You’ll get it when you’re older.”

Oscar boards the trolley, face pinched. “I hope I never do.”

The trolley embarks deeper into town and the new additions to Argus take in the sights. 

“It's a lot bigger than I thought it'd be,” says Yang. 

“It's actually one of the largest non-capital cities in all of Remnant.” Ren stands near the front of the transport, holding onto a bar overhead. Nora has her arms wrapped around the one hanging limply at his side. 

Ruby gasps. “No way! But wait, wouldn't it be harder to settle something this big away from the main Kingdom?”

Jaune clears his throat. “Well, it was, until Mantle showed up. Early settlement attempts by Mistral didn't go well. But colonists from Mantle were able to help them brave the cold climate and return for goods that Solitas couldn't provide.” 

For someone who brushed it off earlier, he knows quite a bit of the city’s history. 

Ren picks up, “The two nations worked together to create a hybrid city. While it falls under Mistral domain, Atlas keeps a military presence here to help keep the people safe and keep trade between the two nations steady.”

“Well, until recently…” Nora, however, isn’t as impressed. 

The trolley makes a stop and everyone hops off. Curious as to why they stopped here, in front of a neighborhood rather than an inn, Oscar asks, “So, where have you guys been staying?”

The blonde leader chuckles nervously, rubbing his neck. “Uh…”

“There you are!”

As the trolley leaves, a blonde woman, with her baby son in her arms, waves from across the street. 

“Is that...?” Yang trails off, everyone’s eyes flicking back and forth between Jaune and the woman. 

“Hey, Saph.” The boy smiles and waves back sheepishly. 

It’s an Arc sister!

She welcomes them all into the house, introducing herself as Saphron Terra-Cotta. They put aside what little luggage they managed to save, and shed their coats and shoes. Oscar’s thankful his socks are black, lest he need even more reason to feel ratty compared to his friends, all dressed in their high end battle gear. 

Seriously, how much more of a reminder does he need that he’s the outlier of the group here? That would seriously have to change soon, especially with Atlas as their next destination. They would eat a humble farm boy Faunus like him alive up there if he walked around looking like this.

Yang and Weiss sit on the floor of the living room, playing with Adrian and making baby noises at him, while others take to sitting on the couches or standing by them. Oscar takes a spot by the book shelves, glad to be out of the cold and in proper heating, but not comfortable enough to mingle. It’s a big house- something he won’t ever get used to after his modest upbringing. 

“So Saphron, you're the only Arc living here?” Blake asks. 

There’s a picture on the bookshelf of the Arc siblings all together, with the young Jaune at the center with pigtails and a deadpan expression. He holds a sign that says ‘HELP’ on it while his sisters do various crazy things around him. It’s cute, but the absurdity of his sisters’ antics helps ease Oscar’s desire for siblings. Maybe he got lucky as an only child.

“Yep! Moved the second I could. Jaune and I are the only two living away from home.” Saphron teases him. “I guess he just wanted to be like his big sis.”

He flushes. “I, uh…” unable to retort, he groans. 

“Aw, you didn't deny it!”

Ruby giggles, feet kicking in the air. “It’s okay, Jaune, I wanted to be like my big sis, too!”

The two siblings play fight with each other by pulling each other's cheeks, much to Ruby’s amusement. Then, a door opens, and in steps a dark-haired woman with glasses and bags of groceries. She isn’t surprised to see even more house guests. 

“Everyone, this is my wife, Terra Cotta.”

Yang and Blake visibly perk up at the title, an instant new level of admiration for the two women. Everyone greets Terra.

“Hello!” Ruby chirps.

“Nice to meet you,” Blake says. 

“Hey there! Got anything yummy while you were out?” Nora welcomes her back, licking her lips. Ren calms her with a shoulder touch. 

Terra laughs. “Why, hello there! Wow, quite a party, you weren't kidding.” She nods towards the kitchen. “Hun, can I get some help please?”

Saphron quickly runs over to help Terra in the kitchen, leaving the gang alone for a quick spell. Team RWBY collectively exhales, relieved they didn’t ruin their first impression. Adrian babbles, reaching for the toy plane, and Yang continues cooing over him, making pretend engine sounds. Weiss stands, smooths her skirt, and joins Oscar by the bookshelf as conversation continues without them. 

“ _You’re_ being awfully quiet,” she whispers, an open invitation for him to indulge her with any of his problems. He only shrugs. 

“I’ve never been the talkative type.”

“With how much Ozpin liked to ramble on, one could almost forget.” She moves one of his bangs out of his eyes. “Almost.”

He smiles gratefully up at her. 

“What do you think of Saphron?” He asks, having nothing else to say. 

“She’s certainly better company than her brother.”

Now, Oscar frowns. 

“Do you really not like Jaune that much?”

“Oscar…” she sighs. “I love Jaune, I do, I love all of my team, and team JNPR- _JNR_. That includes you. But he’s been hitting on me nonstop since the first day of classes. It’s getting old.”

“It's…. not really my place to say, but I don’t think he’s ‘hitting on you’ anymore, so to put it.” He rubs the back of his neck, attempting to keep his voice down. “I think he just admires you. _A lot._ Like I do.”

The white haired girl places a hand on her chest, fawning. 

“Aww, you are way too cute, Oscar. If I were into boys, I would just gobble you up.”

He snorts. “There are much better options literally all around you.”

She pats the top of his head aggressively, staring directly into his eyes. “Stop that. I won’t let one of my friends talk down on themselves. I get enough of that from Ruby. You too are so alike.” She winks. “That is both a compliment, and not.”

“A comparison to Ruby? I’ll take that any day,” he huffs, cheeks warmed. Satisfied, Weiss gives his hair one last musing before returning to the couches, taking a seat where Ren and Nora have disappeared, Jaune as well. Saphron and Terra exit the kitchen, the blonde scooping up her child from the floor and twirling him around before taking a seat next to her wife. 

“And you're sure it's alright if we stay with you?” asks Weiss. 

“Of course, we're happy to house Huntsmen and Huntresses.” Saphron smiles like only a mother could. Terra continues. 

“You all risk so much to keep people like us safe. It's the least we can do.” She turns to Qrow, who is spacing out and hasn’t spoken a word since they entered the house, much less the city. “Especially for such an elite Huntsman like yourself. Although, I will say I was surprised to learn you had students helping you. Is that even... legal?”

Qrow, still not paying attention, gets his arm bumped by his niece. He startles slightly, but quickly gains his composure, a smooth poker face engaged. 

“Uh, of course. Think of it as an extended training mission. Trust me, I was a professor. Even went to the same academy as them. Let me tell ya, these kids are way better than we were at their age.” He crosses his arms, lip jutted. “Well, not better than me specifically, but a lot of students-“

“Shut up, there's food!” Ruby interjects, shoving a sandwich from Nora’s outheld plate straight into Qrow’s hands. Ren hands them all paper plates, much to the house owners’ relief, and they all begin chowing down. Everyone heartily eats the sandwiches, glad to be eating a real meal after the poor excuse for dinner they’d had back at the farm. Oscar sits next to Weiss, accepting a sandwich from Nora with a ‘thank you.’ 

He doesn’t really… _eat_ finger foods. Nothing that requires him to take off his gloves in front of people. So, as hungry as he is, he leaves the sandwich untouched, fidgeting awkwardly with the hem of his glove, a loose string his target. His gloves are in poor condition enough, he doesn’t need to make them worse, but he can’t help the nervous tic. 

“What’s wrong?” Weiss whispers, a hand politely hovering over her mouth, as if she were still chewing. Oscar shrugs, unable to look up from his lap. He’s not going to make this an issue. He’ll just find something to eat later. 

“Not hungry,” he mumbles, hoping she doesn’t press further. Understanding, she moves his sandwich onto her own plate, knowing how much Oscar values good manners. The others are too caught up in conversation to notice the transfer. To anyone who cared to give Oscar a glance, one would just assume he’d scarfed down the sandwich like Ruby or Nora. 

“Tell me later?”

“Okay.” It’s not a conversation he’s looking forward to, but he owes her that much after all she’s done for him lately. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

“So, what's your plan for tomorrow?” Saphron asks.

Ruby, mouth stuffed, begins, “Well…” then she takes a gulp. “We're trying to make our way to Atlas. We'll probably start with the military base!”

Nora and Ren share concerned looks.

“So, we kind of already tried that, and... it didn't go... super great.” Jaune hunches nervously. 

Yang scoffs. “Come on, it couldn't be that bad…”

“They slammed the gates right in our faces!” Nora complains. “Stupid elitist boot lickers.”

“Nora.”

“What? They didn’t even _humor_ us!”

“Well, they didn’t exactly have much reason to believe us. Half of our party was missing, as well as the relic.” Ren pats her knee, mediating. “Tomorrow might go better.”

“Fiiiiiine,” she pouts, then smiles and rolls her head back onto his shoulder, reaching up to poke his nose. 

“I think you guys should just focus on recuperating tonight,” Jaune announces, clapping his hands together, leader mode activated. “You look like you could all use a hot shower, and we have two!”

“Oh, dibs!” Yang’s hand shoots into the air. Then, upon realizing no one else jumped to nab a spot, she sheepishly lowers it. “On second thought, maybe the old lady can go first.”

“The old lady with a _name_ ,” Maria says, poking Yang with her cane. She kind of deserved that. 

“Right, sorry _Miss Calavera_.”

“Better.” Maria hops off the couch and to her feet. Saphron accompanies her, leading her down the hall towards the bathroom. Terra stands, too, hands on her hips. 

“Well, let’s get the rest of you settled in. We only have two guest bedrooms upstairs, so you’ll have to sort that out for yourselves.” She turns to Qrow. “The couch folds out, too.”

“Get me a glass of whatever’s on the shelf and I’m sold,” he says, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Terra isn’t exactly pleased, but she doesn’t object to it. She’s got eight children to deal with. They follow her upstairs, bags and weapons in tow. Jaune relocates his belongings into Nora and Ren’s shared room, giving Team RWBY the second guest room to themselves. Oscar follows Team JNR into theirs, nothing to unpack. His cane remains attached to his belt loop. 

Weiss takes the first shower spot in the guest bathroom, leaving the rest of them with downtime. Nora flops onto the queen sized bed face first, then rolls on her back and spreads her arms invitingly. 

“Come here, cute farm boy! We finally have the little pine tree all to ourselves!” 

Ren sits on the floor, his back against the door, in a meditative pose, eyes already closed. Jaune sits on the edge of the bed, pulling out a rag and cleaner as he begins to polish his armor. Oscar crawls onto the bed, situating himself against the headrest and pillows. Nora snuggles up next to him like a human koala, sniffing. 

“You need a shower, young man!”

He blushes, curling in on himself. 

“I know, I know. We didn’t exactly have the luxury of a hot shower out in the cold.”

“And where _were_ you, exactly? What happened?”

Well. A lot. 

“Um...The train crashed, we gained Miss Calavera, and then holed up in an abandoned farm. Well, it wasn’t abandoned- everyone there just died. There were some Grimm that drained your life force, or something? I never saw them, but Ruby said they were the scariest things she’s ever seen, so I’m glad I didn’t.” He laughs. “I don’t need even more nightmare fuel.”

Ren opens a worried pink eye, analyzing Oscar. The boy restrains from making eye contact. Ren always somehow knew when people were hiding things or lying. Oscar isn’t eager to tell them everything just yet. Not yet. He just wants one good night. 

“That sounds _spooky._ Thank goodness you made it back in one piece!” Nora pinches his cheek. “I don’t know how I could live without your little baby cheeks around. I barely survived one day! Mama has withdrawals!”

He tries to bat her away, but she holds tight, squeezing him closer. 

“I told you she was worried,” Jaune laughs. Nora kicks him lightly, sticking her tongue out. 

“I believe you now. Can we watch TV? I’m really in the mood to shut off my brain,” he sighs, sliding down further onto the pillows. 

“Okie dokie! I’ll put on a movie!” Nora reaches over for the remote, humming a bubbly tune. They settle on a Spruce Willis film. It’s the third of a series, and Oscar’s never seen the first two, but Nora assures him that he doesn’t need to understand the plot to enjoy the movie. She’s right- it’s fun to see the incredible fight choreography and goofy slapstick comedy. 

As they watch, Jaune finishes his touch-ups and Ren his mediating, so they all pile onto the bed best they can, Ren Oscar and Jaune back against the headboard with Nora lower down, her head on Ren’s lap as he brushes her hair. She runs her fingers through Oscar’s fur until Ren hands her the brush.

They get through two thirds of the movie before Ruby knocks and pokes her head in, announcing that the shower is free for Oscar. He’s squished in the middle, so it takes a bit of squirming to get loose, but he manages to slip out of the bed, insisting they finish the movie without him. They can just rewatch it another time. 

“We’ll marathon from the beginning,” he promises, which appeases Nora enough to let him escape. He has to depart from the Long Memory for the moment, leaving the cane on a round tabletop in the room.

 _And then there were two,_ Ozpin says as Oscar closes the bedroom door behind him. One moment to breathe, then he’s off towards the end of the hall. Inside the bathroom there’s already a towel folded and ready for him on the sink counter, and the mirror is fogged with steam. 

He locks the door behind him, wipes a streak across the mirror, and stares at himself. At both of them. The bruise on his jaw is gone. 

“Hi.”

_Hello. How are you feeling?_

“Much better. I didn’t realize I could miss them so much after just one day.”

_Well, it was a very long day._

“Yeah.” He sighs, allowing himself to smile before getting to the hard part. “How are you?”

As Ozpin answers, he begins undressing. 

_Well, considering you’re feeling better, I’d say I’m doing rather well myself._

Deflective, but not entirely. It’s progress. 

He peels off his gloves first, grimacing at the way the bandages underneath stick to the material, soggy with sweat, melted snow, and Gods know what else. After placing the gloves on the counter, he sheds his shirt, then his socks and pants, leaving him only in his binder and boxers. And, of course, the bandages. 

_The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you can delight yourself with a hot shower._

“I know,” he sighs. Okay, hands first. 

He picks at the bandages on his right hand, then peels them off, eyes shut, and deposits them into the trash can. Repeats the process for his left hand. His palms are sensitive to the exposed air, and he dares to look down at them. They’re shaking, but not more than usual. 

Ugly, torn skin faces him, on his palms and knuckles, all along his fingers to the very tips. The scars, having never healed properly, look like melting flesh, like he’d stuck his hand in a blender. The sight never fails to make his stomach churn. They’re nothing compared to his neck, though. 

_Calming breaths._

Right. He’s done this so many times before, even without Ozpin here to help him. He turns away from the mirror for this one, unwrapping the gauze around his neck, focusing on his breathing rather than the feeling of flesh being exposed to air. Bandages in the trash. Don’t look in the mirror. Done. 

Ozpin’s pride is palpable. It’s a strong push for Oscar not to dwell, to undress completely and step into the shower. The water runs hot as soon as he turns the knob, and it’s a welcome sensation. He stands face first into the spray, eyes shut in bliss, simply allowing the current of the water to pummel his skin. 

_This is one feeling I haven’t missed,_ Ozpin also hums in content. 

“You want a turn?” Oscar asks. It’s been a while since Ozpin has had agency, and what better time than in the privacy of a hot shower? 

_If you’ll allow me._

Oscar relents control, happy to let Ozpin spin the wheel. At first it had been weird- bathing, changing, or using the restroom with a grown man inside his body. But now, it feels natural. Ozpin had assured him that he’d gone through this process time and time again, with countless bodies of all different types. He was never going to judge.

The professor is also a bit of a clean freak, which Oscar now understands stems from Ozma’s first untimely death, so he lets the man do the hard work of scrubbing them down from head to tail. He hums under his breath, a tune Oscar recognizes from a pleasant memory, glimpses of Glynda dancing with him up in his office, just the two of them. 

One day, maybe Oscar will meet this woman Ozpin holds so dearly to his heart. That would require a trip back to Beacon, though, so it won’t be for some time. For now, he basks in the memory. Her blonde hair, her sharp eyes, and her calculating smile, hands on his shoulders as they dance. She leads, because of course she does, and the two close friends sway to the melody. 

_She’s pretty,_ Oscar thinks. 

“Indeed,” Ozpin says. “You’d never guess her age on appearances alone.”

_I don’t think that’d be a good idea, anyways._

Ozpin laughs, so distinct to his own dialect but young sounding in Oscar’s voice. 

“No, it is not. I will tell you this; she’s well over forty. Now you don’t have to guess.”

_Pff. Thanks._

“Of course.”

_How old are you? Like, Ozpin, I mean. Your body._

“Currently? I am a fourteen year old farm boy.” He smirks. “But before I passed, I recall being around fifty or so.”

_You don’t remember your exact age?_

Ozpin steps back under the spray, scrubbing the conditioner from their hair. It smells like coconuts. 

“I guess I lost count, after the merge. What was the point? I was no longer myself, and never again would be. Additionally, with being the youngest headmaster to run a school and all, I was a bit overwhelmed with the never ending responsibilities to care, or keep track.”

_That won’t happen to me, will it?_

“With you? No, I don’t predict it will. We share similar souls, yes, but our personalities contrast in many ways. Ozpin, on his— on _my_ own, was very inclined towards my work. Outside distractions were never my forte.”

 _Keeping track of your own age is an outside distraction??_ Oscar laughs inwardly. _Sounds like you were just an extreme workaholic._

“That is one way to put it.” Ozpin steps out of the shower spray slightly. “Would you like to enjoy the rest of your shower yourself?”

The unsaid ‘I can reapply the bandages for you’ is appreciated, but Oscar declines. Ozpin returns to their headspace, and Oscar can feel a buzzing in his chest that speaks of Ozpin’s good mood. It’s been a while since he’s felt that, so he cherishes it, standing in the hot water just a while longer. 

Smelling of pumpkin and vanilla, Oscar steps out of the shower minutes later, a towel wrapped around his chest, his tail wrung out, and his hair ruffled and sticking up wildly. It’s going to suck getting back into dirty clothes, but they’d lost his bag in the crash, along with all of his belongings; clothes, hormone blockers, and a few books. Nothing he can’t replace, but he still mourns the loss. Maybe Jaune or Ren will let him borrow some clothes, just for tonight? 

As all good things must come to an end, Oscar’s mood plummets and shatters upon opening the medicine cabinet. There are no bandages or wrappings of any kind. Pushing back a panic, he crouches, opening the cabinets beneath the sink. Nothing. He curses his lack of foresight. 

_Oscar-_

“Yeah, breathe, _I know,”_ he snaps, sliding down onto the floor, back against the wall. He breathes, yes, but quickly and shortly, hands shaking on the cold tile beneath him. What is he going to do? He can’t put on those old, dirty bandages. But he also can’t be seen like this. They would stare. They would think he’s gross. They would judge him. They would want answers. They would-

“Oscar? Everything okay? You were taking a while and then we heard a thump aaaand…” Jaune knocks on the door, awkwardly trailing off. 

Oscar gasps for air, hands clutching his wet hair. He can't answer. He needs to answer. He can’t see them. He needs to hide them. 

“Oscar.” Jaune’s voice solidifies into worry. “If you don’t answer I’m going to come in-“

 _“No!”_ He shouts, panting, heart thumping wildly. 

“Okay, I won’t come in. I’m right here, outside the door. What do you need? Are you hurt?”

Faintly, he hears another voice, to which Jaune responds with a short “It’s fine- it’s fine.”

_You need to answer him. He can get you what you need._

Oscar whimpers, hands burning. Why were his hands burning? He gasps for air, his throat on fire. Ozpin pushes to reassure him, but the man himself is affected by Oscar’s panic, and can’t gain a semblance of control. 

“B-“ his teeth clatter, fangs catching his bottom lip. He tastes a nic of blood. “Bandages.”

“Okay,” Jaune says. “Ruby, go get Saph; there’s gauze in the downstairs bathroom. Oscar-“ his voice lowers as the man presumably crouches. “It’s okay, Oscar, Ruby will be here faster than you can say-“

“I got them!” Said girl interrupts, nearly banging into the door with how quickly she topples back into the hallway. “Is he hurt? What’s wrong? Should I call an ambulance?”

“Ruby, calm down!” Jaune knocks on the door again, softly. “Oscar, just tell me if you’re hurt. Yes or no.”

“No,” he sighs, shame already creeping up his neck, the worst of the panic over. There were bandages. He could cover up. They wouldn’t have to see. 

“Thank the Gods,” Jaune exhales. “I’ll leave them right outside the door, alright? Do you need anything else?”

_Yes, you do._

He shakes his head. No, he doesn’t want to burden them any further. This is embarrassing enough as is. He’s such a child. 

_Sorry._

Ozpin takes control, immediately dropping his hands from their grip on his head. Then, in a flawless impression of Oscar, he says, “A change of clothes, please?” And just like that he returns to Oscar’s mind. The boy clenches his teeth in anger, unable to scold the man with company right outside. He feels violated now on top of the shame and embarrassment. 

_I’m sorry. I had to._

“Sure, I’ll go get a change of clothes, and you can grab the supplies. Sound good?”

Oscar nods, slumping back against the wall. Jaune takes his silence as a yes, and the boy’s footsteps down the hall are accompanied by hushed whispers. No doubt judging him. Wondering why they even keep him around. Planning to ditch him before they leave for Atlas. 

_None of that. Focus on what is in front of you. One step at a time._

Short lived anger aside, Oscar relents. Ozpin is right, and he was right to take control, as gross as it felt. 

_I know it’s hardly appropriate to ask so soon after forcing my hand, but would you like me to do this next part as well?_

“I said I could, so I will.” Oscar opens the door a crack, peaking into the empty hallway. Swiftly, he nabs the bandages and locks the door tightly behind him. “If I can’t dress some stupid old wounds, what am I even doing here?”

_Oscar-_

“No, I have to do this alone. They already see me as weak… I don’t… I…”

He starts with his hands. 

_Learn from my failures, Oscar; asking for help is not a sign of weakness. The greatest strength is when you show vulnerability and allow yourself to accept aid from others._

“I don’t need help right now,” he growls, wrapping the material around his hand methodically. He’s done this countless times before. This should be nothing. This should be easy. He doesn’t need help.

“There. See?” He holds out two freshly wrapped hands, flexing his fingers, testing the hold. They tremble. His breath catches as he looks in the mirror. Even through a layer of fog, the blistering red scars on his throat stand out on his tan skin. He can’t close his eyes for this one- the wrappings on his neck have to be done correctly and neatly; hide every blemish, secure in a way they won’t slip even in combat. There is no choice but to look.

He’s done this before. He doesn’t need help. 

_You just experienced a panic attack, Oscar. If this is too much-_

“Stop!” He snarls, feral, gripping the counter. “I need to do this. I have to prove… prove to you that I’m not a burden. Prove it to myself.”

Ozpin hushes, solemnly backing off. Oscar steals his resolve and begins, steadying the trembling of his fingers if only through pure spite alone as his motivator. As much as he wishes he could dissociate from this moment, detach himself entirely from the situation, it’s impossible. For every second he stares at the old wounds, he is reminded of them. The house. The bandits. The Grimm. His parents. 

He secures the last strip, jaw numb from how hard it’d been clenched. He wraps up the scar on his right thigh, too. Might as well since he’s here, even if he usually doesn’t bother with that one. 

Done. Jaune raps on the door for a third time.

“Delivery,” he attempts to lighten the mood. It’s appreciated. 

“Thanks,” Oscar says, fighting to keep his voice steady. He repeats the process of opening the door once footsteps have receded, and makes haste in pulling on a fresh pair of clothes; one of Jaune’s black hoodies and a pair of Nora’s sweatpants. It’s weird to forgo anything underneath, but he seriously needs to wash his only clothes, and the cloth of a hoodie is thick enough where he can slouch and not have a visible chest. If Oscar has been blessed with anything, it’s a small cup size. The gloves he can also leave off, just this once, since the sleeves of Jaune’s sweater pool generously below his fingers. He pockets them, just in case. 

Still a bit unsteady, like a brittle autumn leaf nearing its end, Oscar gathers his discarded clothes in his used towel and steps out of the bathroom. Jaune is the only one in the hallway, the two guest doors closed. He’s dressed down as well, arms crossed over his chest, hair pulled back into a small ponytail. 

“Weiss told me you haven’t eaten, yet,” he says, nodding towards the stairs. “Come on, let’s throw your clothes in the wash with the others’ and get you some food.”

They don’t speak of what transpired as they drop off the bundle into the washing machine, nor while Jaune heats up some soup in the microwave. Oscar waits at the dining table with his head resting on his crossed arms, hair still damp and a mess. His tail sags behind him, damp and looking as pathetic as he feels. Maybe Ren will brush it for him, if he asks nicely. 

He tries to ignore Qrow’s presence in the room over, the man nursing a glass of _somethin_ g and drowning his worries away. He knows that even when shit-faced, Qrow is perceptive. Yang’s words, not his. 

Jaune sets a bowl down in front of him with a spoon, then sits in the chair to his left. He pulls out his scroll and trains his gaze on it.

“I’m gonna assume you don’t wanna talk about it.”

Oscar shakes his head and pulls the soup closer, picking up the spoon. Jaune glances at his wrapped fingers, but says nothing. He eats, slowly, despite the growling in his stomach. Jaune watches a video, chin resting on his palm, and gives Oscar both the privacy and company he needs. The fact that he’s being so nice, treating Oscar with so much love and care, only serves to feed into the boy’s guilt. Tomorrow, the girls will most likely reveal the truth about Ozpin, and then Oscar will have to bear the weight of their anger, their hatred towards Oz. He will have to keep Ozpin’s presence a secret and lie to the only three people left who don’t hate half of his soul. 

Once he finishes, he cleans the bowl in the sink, and hangs it on the drying rack. Jaune follows him into the kitchen, hip leaning against the counter, blocking his exit. His stance is firm, but not confrontational. Oscar can leave any moment he wishes.

“Just because you don’t _want_ to talk about it, doesn’t mean you can’t, or that you shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

“Whatever it is, we won’t judge you for it. We love you, Oscar, and nothing will change that.”

Nothing? Nothing at all? How about him lying about their most hated ally watching their every move without their knowledge? Protecting a man who has made so many mistakes, gotten one of their friends _killed,_ just for his own selfish needs? They love Oscar, for now, but something definitely could change that— _will_ change that.

“I know,” he says through gritted teeth, hiding behind his bangs. Jaune is far from convinced, but he lays off, turning towards the exit. 

“Alright. Let’s get settled. We probably have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“It’s starting to feel like every day is a long day, at this point.” 

“You’re not wrong,” Jaune sighs, leading the way.

The doors are both open when they return to the upstairs. Ren and Nora are in team RWBY’s room, the sound of video game effects emitting from the holo screen they’ve all hooked their scrolls up to. Oscar sneaks past, directly into the JNR room, and grabs the Long Memory from its resting place. Immediately, he feels grounded, and sits on the edge of the bed. Jaune stands in the doorway, looking torn. 

“The girls are playing games if you want to join… or you could turn in early.”

“I’ll be fine. I think I’d rather be alone right now.” He twirls the cane in his hand with deft fingers, the actions more muscle memory than anything. Jaune leaves, slowly closing the door behind him. The excitement in the room over is muffled, but still audible. Him being there would just ruin their good moods. Oscar shuffles back into the bed, pulling the blankets over his lap before he continues to fiddle with the collapsed cane.

_If only there were a way to convince you of your worth._

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he mumbles, eyes on the door. 

_If you do not wish to talk to Jaune, perhaps I can provide a listening ear?_

“You already know what happened… to- to me. To my family. You know how I feel about it.”

_This is true. There are plenty other topics to talk about, though._

“I don’t really feel like it.” He turns away from the light onto his side, fingers tracing the etched vine pattern on the cane’s handle. “Can we just go to sleep? Tomorrow is probably going to suck.”

 _Ever the reason to prolong it, I‘d imagine._ Ozpin snorts. _A bit of lip from your parasite is hardly what you want to be hearing at the moment, I would also imagine. Apologies._

“You’re funny sometimes.” He yawns. “But not on purpose. Kind of like Ironwood.”

_The General does have his moments. That reminds me…_

Similarly to the night before, and the several preceding that, Oscar falls asleep to another one of Ozpin’s anecdotes. 

Unlike those other mornings, Oscar wakes peacefully for once, feeling warm, well rested, and fuzzy. He recognizes the body wrapped around him as Nora, because who else, whereas Jaune and Ren are sleeping on the floor in makeshift cots, the blonde’s arm wrapped around the latter’s middle, his hair undone from its ponytail. Nora snores loudly, which is probably why Oscar woke up. Otherwise, he’d have slept for years after that rough patch. 

He’s always been an early riser, though, so he shimmies out of Nora’s clutches and carefully steps around the boys, swiping the Long Memory on his way out the door. They must have placed it aside after he’d fallen asleep. 

Saphron and Terra are awake and busy when Oscar arrives downstairs. Terra is typing away at her scroll while Saphron walks in and out of the kitchen, balancing several chores at once. Maria sits at the dining table, feeding Adrian his breakfast. Qrow, sprawled out on the pullout couch, is down for the count, still dressed in his clothes from last night. Oscar quietly passes him and enters the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” he says, much to Saphron’s surprise. She wasn’t expecting one of the kids to be awake this early. Flipping a pancake, she grins, then indicates towards the oven. 

“Good morning! Oscar, was it?” He nods. “Mind turning off the oven before the timer goes off? I baked cinnamon rolls. Don’t wanna wake the Huntsman on the couch.”

He obliges, happy to have a task to busy himself with. Together, he and Saphron prepare breakfast, leaving the pancakes and rolls in the oven on the lowest setting to keep them from cooling too much. Then, they move onto the laundry. The majority of their clothes had just been thrown into the wash together, save for delicates that required a human touch, like Ruby’s tattered cape or Weiss’s dress. 

The clothes had been left in the dryer overnight, so they’re a tad wrinkly, but Saphron pulls out the ironing board with a determined pose. 

“We have at _least_ another hour before the first of them rises. I’m a mom, you’re a good helper; we got this.”

Oscar tries not to touch any of the clothes. Just as Saphron said; she’s a mom, he’s a helper. He’s not about to touch the girls’ belongings when a grown woman is already on the job. He does help her organize them, though, since he’s been living with the girls long enough to at least be able to identify which garments were whose. He also folds the towels and stacks them tidily. 

“Whose is this?” Saphron asks, holding up his binder. Oscar blushes, subconsciously slouching his chest. 

“That’s mine,” he says, the floor suddenly very interesting. 

“Ooh, sorry. Here, it doesn’t need to be ironed.” She hands him the article, her hands lingering. The woman kneels before him, eyes gentle. “It’s okay, my wife is, too.”

“I-oh.” He shuts his gaping mouth. 

“So is… uhhh. Never mind.”

“Huh?”

She stands, rubbing her neck the same way Jaune does when he’s nervous. They’ve never looked more alike. Wait-

“ _Jaune?”_ Oscar asks, his voice hitched an octave, a shrill whisper. He can’t help it; his tail wags. Saphron waves her hands, shushing him, though he wasn’t very loud to begin with. 

“I thought you knew! Oh, please don’t tell him I totally outed him to you. I assumed that you knew since you’ve been traveling so long together and he just talked about you in particular so much-“

“I won’t!” He winces, not meaning to interrupt her. “I won’t. Sorry. I’m… I’m glad you told me, though. I… this is embarrassing.” He buries his face in his hands. “He’s like an older brother to me. I can’t even explain how much this means to know.”

Saphron pulls him into a hug, laughing. 

“That is so sweet… Jaune always used to complain about wanting a younger brother. I guess that’s why he couldn’t stop talking about you when he arrived. The perfect little bro of his dreams!” She pulls away, wiping her eye as she chuckles. “Oh Gods, don’t make me cry, it’s too early in the morning for this.”

“Ditto,” he laughs along with her. “I can take the bin up to the rooms and wake everyone up for breakfast?”

“That would be amazing,” she says, pinching his cheek. “My new wittle baby bwother~”

Everyone and their obsession with his cheeks. He darts away, grinning, then scoops up the laundry basket full of clothes and scampers off. One day he’ll grow out of his baby face, and then they’ll all see. Maybe he’ll grow a few feet, too, while he’s at it. 

“Breakfast time!” He announces, pushing open team JNR’s door with his foot. Ren is already awake and dressed in his combat gear, a pair of slippers on his feet, his hair tied back into a low ponytail. Nora, much like Weiss, sleeps until the afternoon on most days (except Thursdays), so she’s still passed out in the bed, nuzzling into a pillow. Jaune is sitting, still in his night clothes, on the floor, hair flying in every direction and blinking blearily at his scroll. 

Both of the boys greet Oscar, one with a polite smile and the other with a tired wave. He leaves them to deal with Nora as he knocks on team RWBY’s door. Blake answers, her mouth twitching into the tiniest of smiles. 

“Good morning,” she says, then looks at the laundry bin. “You brought our laundry?”

“Saphron did most of it.” He hands her the bin, then takes his own pile from the mix. “We’re having pancakes and cinnamon rolls.”

“DID SOMEONE SAY PANCAKES?” Nora yells from the other room, startling everyone else from their sleep. She slams into the hallway, not bothering to change into her regular clothes, and soars down the stairs, chanting with every step. 

“Um, thank you, Oscar,” Blake says, accepting the basket and stepping back into the room. “See you down there.” She closes the door, and Oscar hurries into the bathroom to get ready himself. 

He double checks his wrappings, puts on the fresh clothes plus his gloves, and folds Nora and Jaune’s own. They’ll want to wash them, but he prefers tidiness over balling them up, even if it’s temporary. 

The team eats breakfast, the lot of them barely fitting at the dining table. It’s done quickly, including the cleaning that comes after. Ruby wants a head start on the day and any obstacles that might slow them down. That, and it takes Weiss at least an hour to get ready in the morning when there’s no imminent danger.

Saphron and Terra leave to drop Aiden off at the daycare on the way to work, meaning the house is theirs until they decide to leave. Everyone, sans Weiss and Oscar, gather in the living room to watch the news while the heiress gets ready. 

She’s sitting on the floor in front of a full view mirror, still dawned in her night wear, her makeup case open next to her. Oscar sits, legs crossed, next to the kit, carefully poking around inside. An orange slice is nursed, hanging from the corner of his mouth 

“I don’t even know what half of this stuff is,” he admits, holding up a blue pencil. 

“ _That_ is an eyeliner pencil.” Weiss pats her cheek in a circular motion with the brush coated in powder. “I can apply it for you, if you want. It’ll only take a couple minutes.”

He returns the pencil to its slot. 

“No, thank you. Makeup isn’t my thing.”

Weiss scoffs. 

“Makeup is for _everyone,_ you just have to know how to use it correctly. I use it, Winter uses it, even Whitley-“ she cuts herself off, pausing her application. Oscar waits. She resumes her routine, unbothered by the falter. “I have a younger brother. Have I ever told you that?”

“The others have mentioned it before, I think.”

“Well, I do. He’s a conniving little prick, just a miniature version of my father. You’re much better.”

He laughs, unsure how to take that compliment. Surely her brother isn’t that bad? “I’m just everyone’s little brother now, aren’t I?”

“Yes, so don’t be surprised when Nora busts out the adoption papers one day.”

“Weeeeeiiiiss! Are you almost dooooone?” Ruby yells, drawing out her vowels. 

“Yes!” Weiss responds, slipping the brush back into the kit then clasping it shut. She stands, pulling Oscar to his feet with her. She’ll need at least five more minutes to get dressed. “Well, can’t avoid Atlas forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loooong chapter compared to the first. Hope that's fine! And I hope you enjoyed. Gonna be slow with updating this fic because I edit chapters at LEAST 30 times before uploading them.


	3. Shattered Glass Can Never Truly Be Restored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than usual! There was a specific cut-off I wanted.  
> Will be much longer after this one LOL.

It is midday when team RWBY, JNR, and accompanying individuals arrive at the military base. Aircraft are landing and departing, as well as ships. There is a general bustle of business behind the closed gates. 

Caroline Cordovin is a dramatic individual. Loud. Thinks very highly of herself. Even has a touch of racism. It’s every stereotype about Atlesians that Oscar can think of, besides her wealth. Well, who knows, her position  _ does _ imply she’s well off. She certainly seems proud of it. So proud, in fact, that she denies them access, even with Qrow insisting he’s friends with the General. 

The one person granted access is Weiss, who is told she can go, but only she alone. 

“I don’t…” Weiss trails off, brows furrowed. 

Ruby steps towards her friend. “Weiss. I told you we wouldn't leave your side for a second. We'll find a way to Atlas. Together.”

Weiss smiles, still unsure, and nods back at her friend. Her face falls as she turns away. Qrow starts to walk away, cape flapping in the sea breeze.

“So... where are we going now?” Ruby asks him.

“Yeah, what's the plan?” Asks Nora, resting her elbow on Oscar’s shoulder. 

Qrow bitterly spits, “The plan? The plan just got shut on our face three times over. I'm going for a drink.”

Displeased, Ruby runs over to her uncle. “Uncle Qrow, I really think we should try and come up with something…” Qrow walks faster before she can finish “...together.”

Jaune tuts. “What's his problem? It's not your fault we can't go on.”

“If he's gonna be a jerk then we'll just come up with something without him. I mean, we've got Ozpin with us! He usually knows what to do.” Nora ruffles Oscar’s hair at the mention of his partner. Upon hearing this, Oscar freezes, and Weiss, Blake and Yang exchange troubled looks.

Ren, noticing the change in demeanor, asks, “What is it?”

“It’s a long story, is what it is,” Yang says. She shoots Oscar a dirty look. “One better explained behind closed doors.” 

He knows glaring back will only do more harm, but he can’t resist. She scoffs and begins walking away. It would be satisfying if it didn’t hurt so badly. 

“Okay…” Jaune says, clearly lost. Team JNR notices the downpour on the mood, as well as the dirty look shot his way. Nora and Ren step between team RWBY and Oscar as they begin to head back. Ren holds a reassuring hand on his shoulder, realizing a sudden surge of panic is coming from the boy. 

Can he sit this one out? He really wants to sit this one out. Ren and Nora are acting suspicious of the girls, but they also watch him closely, as if unsure of who to trust. He can’t fault them for that. He’s hiding more from them than team RWBY is. 

They walk in relative silence all the way back to the house. Tension rises with each step, as does Oscar’s heart rate. Ozpin can only do so much to calm him down, especially hard to do when Ozpin himself is dreading the upcoming battle. They’re both in a state of panic, all the way up to and inside the house where everyone gathers on the couches. Oscar stays by the stairs, by the exit, in case he need run, though he’s rooted to place in fear the moment Ruby begins explaining everything.

_ Everything _ . From the moment the train crashed onwards. Oscar watches, frozen, throat tight, as the expressions on team JNR’s faces morph. Betrayal, hurt, shock, confusion, anger. They cycle through emotions as the story continues. Ozma’s first death. Salem’s numerous suicide attempts. Their unique forms of immortality. Their daughters. The people they’ve slain. The secrets Ozpin has kept. Humanity's second attempt. Jinn’s answer. 

“You can’t.”

Conveniently, the story ends where Jinn’s does. They don’t mention Qrow’s heart break, his retaliation, nor the way they surrounded Ozpin and berated him. Just the fact that he ran, locked himself away like a coward. 

A traumatized coward who’d had his most vulnerable memories exposed and displayed like a feature film with no regard for his feelings. A deep resentment fills Oscar, the feeling so powerful he can’t distinguish it as his own, or Ozpin’s. It’s likely both. 

Jaune screams and punches the wall, the plaster exploding under his fist into a tiny crater. 

“ _ Jaune! _ ” Ruby scolds him. He’s too caught up in his fury to register her warning. 

“Everything we did was for nothing!” he cries. “ _ She died for nothing.” _

_ Red hair. A caged scream. An arrow. Fire. _

Ozpin’s own burning flame of anger extinguishes with a flush of shame. Tail tucked between his legs, Oscar lets out a silent whine. 

“That's not true.” Blake’s voice cracks, the only one to hear Oscar’s noise. 

“Really? Cause it sure does sound like it.” Nora, overwhelmed, flails her hands out.

Ren, though much more composed outwardly, is still heavily troubled. “If Salem can't be killed, then how are we supposed to win this?”

Everyone remains silent. It’s not all about winning. Don’t they realize that?

_ They’re rightfully angry. Once their heads clear, there will be a better chance at understanding, just as you do.  _ Ozpin tries to be encouraging, but isn’t convinced either. 

Jaune sarcastically exclaims, “Wow... Great plan everyone!”

If no one else is going to try, Oscar may as well, despite how hard he trembles, how guilty he feels. Maybe he can save this from falling apart. 

“Look, none of this is great, we know. But we're not the bad guys here.” 

Hostile, Jaune turns on him. “Are we sure about that?”

“What?” He shrinks back, any confidence zapped with one shot. 

“He's in your head, isn't he? Did you already know about this?” He starts to angrily walk over to Oscar. The exit, an escape, is right there. But Jaune wouldn’t hurt him. Qrow was a wild card, but Jaune loves him like a brother. Right?

Weiss steps between them. “He didn't know any of it!” 

Jaune doesn’t listen to her. He storms past, grabbing Oscar by the collar. He shoves him against the wall, his head slamming back so hard he sees white sparks. 

“How much longer can we even trust him?!” Jaune yells, directly into his face where Oscar fails to breathe, fails to fight back, to run. 

“Jaune!” Yang shouts. Even  _ she  _ hasn’t acted in her anger like this. 

“How do we even know it's really him?! What if we’ve been talking to that  _ liar _ this whole time?!”

_ “Jaune!”  _

Ruby glares at Jaune, who glares back at her. In the end, her fury dominates the room. The look is so rare on her, it makes it all the more powerful. Jaune looks back over to Oscar, who is cowering in fear, tears already glistening his eyes. There’s a flash of regret, and then he’s dropped back onto his feet, the leader backing away with a blank stare. Without another word, he storms upstairs, slamming a door behind him. 

The air is thick, as though anyone could blow next, a ticking time bomb of emotions. 

“Is he... gonna be okay?” Yang asks. 

“I don't know!” Nora stomps away, so caught up in her own storm of thoughts she doesn’t even glance at Oscar. The boy, in his state of shock, backs away slowly towards the front door. 

“I think it would be best if we had some time to ourselves,” says Ren. He also heads up the stairs, looking sadly back at Oscar over his shoulder. They wait in anticipation until the door closes behind Ren, marginally softer than the two slams before him. 

“Maybe we could all use some space,” Blake says, ears flat. 

“I’m going out,” Yang states, standing. Blake follows. 

“Maybe we should get some lunch?” Weiss suggests, sounding about as awkward as she looks. Ruby nods, then begins dialing on her scroll. 

“I’ll get our uncle.”

Yang, Blake, and Weiss pass him as they leave, the heiress being the only one to consider his presence. She reaches out for him, stopping as soon as he cowers. Heartbroken for him, she backs off, like he’s a kicked pup. She’s horrified by his reaction, a thousand yard stare in those blue eyes, as though she’s seeing someone else entirely in his place. 

She turns quickly, clutching her hand to her chest, and hurries out the front door behind her two teammates. 

Ruby, preoccupied with her scroll, enters the backyard, leaving Oscar alone in the entranceway. 

In a daze, he shakily steps back, startling when he hits the wall. The back of his head throbs. He hadn’t thought to engage his aura, not expecting Jaune of all people to hurt him. He’s too shocked to do so now, to heal the bruise. 

Ozpin, equally disturbed, either by his own memories or Jaune’s reaction, says nothing. Oscar can think of nothing else to do but leave, mind blank, no destination in mind. He walks briskly, not really seeing where he’s going, what he’s doing, who he’s passing. Blake was right, they just need some space. He’s getting space. 

The sun eventually begins setting. Retelling the past days’ events had taken some time, between describing the gruesome scenes Jinn showed them and the interjecting questions from team JNR. Having relived such horrors twice now, Ozpin erects walls around himself, as if putting up a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign within their headspace. He’s still there, but he’s not going to provide any comfort. He  _ can’t.  _ Won’t for a while.

Oscar doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t blame Ozpin for a lot of things. He should. Plenty of the others do. Still, he refrains. They can pick up his slack in that department just fine. 

There’s a brief snowfall once the sun sets. Oscar had wandered the town for hours, aimless and blank, not feeling much besides the chill in the air and the throbbing in his head. He’s cold, shivering, and lost. Sure, if he asked for directions he could definitely find his way back, but he doesn’t  _ want  _ to go back. What would he be going back to? Family? Friends? Or a group of heroes he doesn’t belong in? People who trusted him? People he’s been lying to?

He bumps into a woman with short red hair and glasses, her green eyes brilliant and sorrowful. He apologizes, and she forgives him before continuing on her path. It shakes him from his thoughts enough to allow him to register his surroundings. 

The park he’s stumbled into is small, with a playground for children in the trees and a few benches surrounding a tall statue in the center. The woman, with her shield and head bowed, is a mighty honorable warrior. She also looks familiar. A historical figure of Argus, perhaps?

Oscar approaches, squinting up at her face, finally broken from his daze, lured towards her. There is a bundle of flowers on the base. He kneels, wipes the memorial plate free of snow, and stills. 

IN HONOR OF PYRRHA NIKOS, ONE OF MANY STUDENTS WHO FOUGHT VALIANTLY AT THE FALL OF BEACON

The girl from his memories, with bright red hair and emerald green eyes, stands before him. Her muscles on full display, tense but stilled, a level of respectable restraint in her bowed posture. She is the image of a true warrior. 

Ozpin’s erected walls break, and Oscar gasps, falling onto his backside. He stares up at the girl, eyes wide as she looks down on him with eternally closed eyes, judging him for his actions. 

_ Miss Nikos sits before his desk, excited but confused to be in the lone presence of the headmaster. A crow waits in shadows, watching with a keen eye. Oscar leans forward, linking his bare fingers together.  _

_ He’s about to propose to the girl a destiny she cannot not deny.  _

_ “What is your favorite fairytale?” _

“Agh!” He cries, backing away from the foot of the statue. There are no onlookers to witness his mental breakdown. There is only Pyrrha Nikos. 

_ You weren’t meant to see that. I’m so sorry.  _

“I- I need- hold on,” Oscar pants, desperate for air to enter his lungs at a safe pace. He drags himself to a bench, pulling himself onto the seat and folding over his knees, hands in his hair. 

That memory, it may as well have been his own. He’s never experienced one so vivid before. So real. That was  _ him  _ at the desk. Not Ozpin. 

_ I’m sorry. My emotions got the best of me. Oscar, please, calm down. You’re okay. You are free of responsibility. That was not you.  _

“She… she didn’t have a choice.” He pulls at his hair, ignoring the attempts at comfort. He doesn’t need coddling, right now. He needs answers. “Pyrrha never really had a choice, did she? And you  _ knew that _ .” He hisses through clenched teeth. 

_ Yes... we all knew.  _

At the admission, Oscar deflates. 

”.... I didn’t have a choice, either.”

_ You did. Many lifetimes I have spent trapped in an unwilling host, watching the world fall further into chaos, helpless to lend aid. Although, if we are speaking from a moral stance, you did not have a choice. Your heart would not allow for anything less than taking the just path _ _.  _

Oscar had no choice, still doesn’t, but that’s the fault of the universe, not Ozpin. Pyrrha’s case, however...

“Why? Why her? Why then?”

_ Do you really want an answer? You will not be pleased.  _

“I can’t- I have to know, Oz. Why  _ her? _ ”

The immortal takes a breath he might not even need.

_ Miss Nikos was a valiant fighter. The other students had labeled her ‘The Invincible Girl.’ Maiden powers require a young host of great strength. Too weak, and they are merely a target. Miss Nikos was not weak.  _

“She was just a kid, like me.”

_ She was also brave. Much too brave for her own good, in the end. There were plenty other candidates for the position, sure, but if not her, then who? Another girl? She would have suffered the same fate, the same death. It was an unfortunate destiny that Miss Nikos played into.  _

_ By becoming the Fall maiden, she would truly fulfill the title she disliked, gaining an immeasurable amount of power that would allow her to protect all those she cared for, and those she’d yet meet.  _

_ However, if she rejected those powers, she would be putting the responsibility of the world on someone else’s shoulder. Her sense of righteousness would simply not allow for such a decision.  _

_ I assume that… after I died… On top of believing it to be her mission alone to stop the new fall maiden, Miss Nikos wished to face her destiny. By entering a fight she had no hopes of winning, she could either fulfill her role as the Invincible Girl, or finally break free from the pedestal society placed her atop of.  _

_ After all, she was— as you said— a child just like you. The major difference being she  _ **_chose_ ** _ the life of a huntress whereas it was thrusted upon you. You may very well know best, Oscar, what Miss Nikos experienced.  _

“I… do.”

_ So you know, then, why I cannot blame young Arc for acting the way he did, nor his friends. It was me that led his dearest partner to her demise.  _

“It wasn’t just you,” Oscar whispers, eyes snapping to the statue. He walks back to her, feeling an all new respect for the girl before him. Now, he stands before her, rather than underneath. “It was Salem, too. Just like you said, right? It’s all so morally gray. There is no finite answer. Just as there is bad within good, there is light within darkness.”

_ You are wise beyond your years.  _

“I don’t have a choice,” he shrugs. “I used to be angry… I wanted to fight with my life to break free from you.” Oscar clutches his chest, eyelashes wet with unfallen tears as he stares up at Pyrrha. “But there’s no point in that. This is my destiny. All I can do is make the best of it.” 

_ And I will dedicate myself to supporting you, Oscar, for as long as I am here.  _

  
  


* * *

A young Faunus boy stands before a statue. Talking to himself. He is with the Beacon students and the professional huntsman, Qrow Branwen. His relation to them is unknown. Too young to be a friend from their school days. 

It hardly matters. 

What does matter is that him being here confirms that Team RWBY has arrived in Argus as well. Even after disconnecting the train. 

A hooded figure watches in the trees, shrouded in shadows. 

They will lurk from afar, but the boy will not leave their sight. 

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo as you can tell if you've read this chapter, a lot of this fic will be rewriting volumes 6-7. While some elements of canon will remain the same, even the smallest of changes in a timeline can have major effects on characters as people, the events that go down in canon, and so on. I hope you'll continue reading and strap in because this fic is LONG!!!!  
> Comments are greatly appreciated, too!!


End file.
